


I 




^, jfa&tszrL. 



THE TATLEE 



THE GUARDIAN 



BY 

JOSEPH ADDISON. 



EDITEB, 

WITH CEITICAL AND EXPLANATOKY NOTES, 

BY GEORGE WASHINGTON GREENE. 



"No whiter page than Addison remains. 
He from the taste obscene reclaims our youth, 
And sets the passions ou the side of truth ; 
Forms the soft bosom with the gentlest art, 
And pours each human virtue thro' the heart." 

Pope. 






... ' -N s 



PHILADELPHIA: 
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 

1876. 



^ 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, 

By GEO. P. PUTNAM & CO., 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 

District of New York. 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, hy 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO., 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at "Washington. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

EAOB 

The Tatler: 

Introductory Remarks, ...... 12 

18. On Signs: (probably), .... 15 

20. Dramatic News and Criticism, ... 11 

24. Character of a very Pretty Fellow — A Toast, 20 

42. Inventory of the Play-house, .... 26 

15. •'Miss Jenny's Marriage — Choice of Matches in the Bick- 

erstaff Family, 28 

81. Vision of the Table of Fame, 34 

86.^Se~ene of Country Etiquette, 43 ■ 

88. A Dancing-master practising by Book, ... 4*7 
90. Unity of Sentiment in treating the Passion of Love — 

Its allegorical History, . . . . « 49 
93. Letter from Switzerland — Remarks on Travelling — 

Fools not to be exported — The Author's Precautions 

against Assaults, ... .... 52 

9^7. Hercules courted by Pleasure and Virtue, an Allegory, 55 

100. Goddess of Justice distributing Rewards, . . 59 

101. Danger of Authors from Pirates, . 65 

102. Continuance of the Vision of the Goddess of Justice, 10 

103. Applications for Permission to use Canes, &c, 15 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

pAoa 

108. Degradation of tk.3 Stage — Dignity of Human Nature 

— Errors of French Writers, 82 

110. Court of Judicature of the Dead in Reason, . . 8*7 

111. On the Prevalence of Irreligious Principles, . . 92 

114. Death-bed Scene, 97 

116. Court of Judicature on the Petticoat 101 

117 On the Pleasure derived from the Deliverance of the 

Good from Danger — The Author's Dream, . . 106 

119. Discoveries of the Microscope — A Dream, . . .111 

120. Vision of the Three Roads of Human Life — Dogget's 

Benefit 115 

121. Consultation on the Sickness of a Lady's Lap-Dog — 

Fondness for Animals, . . . . . .122 

122. The Author's Appearance at Dogget's Benefit — Virtu- 

ous feelings of an Athenian Audience, . . 127 

123. Continuation of the Vision of the Three Roads of Life, 131 

131. Trial of the Wine-brewers, 137 

133. On Silence — Instances of its Significancy, . . 142 

146. Various Cases of Complainers — Dream of Jupiter and 

the Destinies 145 

147. Juno's method to regain Jupiter's Affection, . . 150 

148. On the Diet of the Metropolis — Pernicious Dishes — 

False Delicacies, . . , . , , .154 

152. Homer's Description of a future State, . . . 158 

153. Characters in Conversation described as Instruments of 

Music .165 

154. Virgil's Allegory and Ideas of a future State, . . 170 

155. —Character of the Upholsterer — A great Politician, . 176 

156. Visit of Telemachus to the other world, . . . 181 
158. Pedantry of Tom Folio, the Book-broker, . . . 186 
lcO ,^A Visit and Letter from the Upholsterer, . . 190 

161. Dream of the Region of Liberty, .... 193 

162. Duty of a Censor — How performed by the Author — 

Subscriptions for the Tatler, ... 198 

163. Critical reading of Ned Softly's Poetry, . . 202 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. VII 

PAGH 

165. ^On the Impertinence of Criticism — Character of Sir 

Timothy Tittle, 206 

192. Characters in a Stage-coach — Anecdote of two Ladies 

and their Husbands, Passengers in a Packet-boat, 210 
216. Taste of the Virtuosi — Legacy of a Virtuoso — Death of 

Mr. Partridge, 214 

218. On the Names given by Gardeners to Flowers — A Visit 

to a Garden, ....... 218 

220. —Account of the Church Thermometer, . . .223 

224. On Advertisements — Quackeries — Washes, <fec, . 22*7 
226. Life of Margery, alias John Young, commonly called 

Dr. Young, 231 

229. Remarks on the Author's Enemies — Fable of the Owls, 

Bats, and the Sun, 235 

239. Remarks on the Author's Enemies — The Examiner, 238 

240. The Science of Physic— Quacks of the Time, . . 243 
243. Adventures of the Author when invisible, . . 24*7 

249. Adventures of a Shilling, 251 

250. Institution of a Court of Honour, .... 256 

253. „ -Journal of the Court of Honour, 259 

254. Sir John Mandeville's account of the Freezing and 

Thawing of several Speeches, .... 263 

255. Letter from a Chaplain — Thoughts on the Treatment of 

Chaplains, 268 

256. Proceedings of the Court of Honour, . . . 2*72 

257. Wax-work representation of the Religions of Great 

Britain, 277 

259 Journal of the Court of Honour, .... 283 

260. Essay on Noses— Skill of Taliacotius, .... 281 

262. ^Journal of the Court of Honour, ." . . . 292 

265. Journal of the Court of Honour, 296 

267 On appointed Seasons for Devotion — Lord Bacon's 

Prayer, 300 

The Guardian: 

Introductory Remarks, ...... 806 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

PAcn 

67 Fate of Poets— Recommendation of Tom D'Urfey, . 307 
71. Observations on the Increase of Lions — Character of a 

Lion, 311 

96. A Proposal for Honorary Rewards — Coins and Medals, 315 
97 Letter from Simon Softly, complaining of a Widow — 

Advice to him, 319 

98. Notice of the Tatler and Spectator— Scheme of a Lion's 

Head at Button's, 323 

99. Essay on National Justice— a Persian Story, . . 327 

100. On the Tucker — Naked Necks — Laws of Lycurgus — Po- 

sition of Venus, 331 

101. Letters from France — Gayety of the French, . . 335 

102. Variableness of the English Climate, .... 339 

103. On the Fireworks— Serious Reflections on the same, 342 

104. Story of a French Gentleman — Letter on the manners 

of the French, 346 

105. Exhibition of the Charity Children — Proposals to ex- 

tend our Charities, 349 

106. Vision of Aurelia with a "Window in her Breast, . 353 
107 Letter from a Projector, offering himself as a Nomencla- 

tor — Letter from Messrs. Ditton <fe Whiston, , 356 

108. Institution of the Tall Club, 361 

109. Correspondence on the Tucker, .... 364 

110. On the Language of Treaty — Improprieties instanced, 367 

111. Improper conduct of the British Youth — Ijove of know- 

ledge — Solomon's Choice, 372 

112. Art of Flying — Letter from Dasdalus — Remarks on Mod- 

ern Daedalists •. 376 

113. Letter from a Citizen in his Honey-moon — Tom True- 

love's Courtship, 379 

114. Erection of the Lion's Head — Remarks on Lions — on 

Petticoats 382 

115 On Criticism — Strada's Prolusion, .... 385 
116. Matters of dress not to be introduced in the Pulpit — 

Letter on Naked Breasts, ..... 389 



TABLE OP CONTENTS. IX 

PASS 

117. Happiness of living under the Protection of Omnipo- 

tence, §91 

118. Information from a Lioness — Offer of an Out-riding 

Lion, 395 

119. Translation of Strada's Prolusion, .... 398 

120. On Female Gamesters, ' ^ . . 402 

121. On Female Undressing, 406 

122. Sequel on Strada's Prolusion, 410 

123. On Seducers of Innocence — Letter to one from a Mo- 

ther, . 414 

124. Letters from a University Lion — on Horns — Burlesque 

' Lyric — Visit to the Lion, 418 

134. The Lion — how treated by the Town — Complaint of a 

Wife's Dress, 422 

135. Best Way to bear Calumny, 426 

136. Various Causes of Death — Country Bill of Mortality, 430 

137. Advantages of illustrious Birth — how Contaminated — 

Pride of Mr. Ironside, 434 

138. On Regard for Posterity, . ... 438 

139. History of Lrons — Story of Androcles, . . . 442 
140^ On Female Dress — Letter to Pope Clement on ^.he 

Tucker 446 

152. Comparative Merit of the two Sexes, an Allegory, . 449 

153. Pride not made for Man, 45? 

154. Lucifer's Account of a Masquerade, .... 457 

155. Utility of Learning to the Female Sex, . . . 462 

156. History and Economy of Ants, 466 

157. The same, concluded, 472 

158. Proper Employment of Time; a Vision, . /t . 479 

159. Story of Miss Betty, cured of her Vanity,^ . . 484 

160. Conjectures of concealed Meanings under the History 

of the Ants, 488 

161. Proper Sense and Notion of Honour, . . . 493 
162. Humour of a Blunt Squire — Camplaisance — Story of 

Schacabac, 497 

Vol. IV.— 1* 



TABLE OP CONTENTS. 

PAM 

163. Letter from an Insulted Chaplain — Poem by Sir Thomas 

More, 601 

165. Miseries of Folly and Vice at the Head of a Family, 506 

166. On Charity — The Guardian in search of the Philoso- 

pher's Stone, 509 

167 Story of Helim and Abdallah, 513 



THE TATLER. 



INTBODUCTOBY BEMABK8. 

The first number of the Tatler appeared on the 12th of April, 1709, 
And immediately attracted the attention of the town. " Hitherto," says 
Wycherly, writing to Pope on the 17th of May, "your miscellanies have 
run the gauntlet through all the coffee-houses, which are now entertained 
with a whimsical new newspaper, called the Tatler, which I suppose you 
have seen. 1 ' The honor of the conception belongs to Steele ; and Addison, 
who was upon the point of starting for Ireland, is said to have discovered 
the author by a criticism in the sixth number upon Virgil's use of Epithet, v 
Soon after, he became a contributor himself, and continued to take an ac 
tive part in it till it was suddenly stopped on the 2d of January, 1710, tc 
make way for the Spectator. This was the first time that he had found 
himself free to follow the bent of his genius. None of his earlier works 
had been of a kind to call out his peculiar powers. In poetry he waa 
never really at his ease, and his travels, as he had planned them, left him 
no scope for those humorous sketches or 'graceful disquisitions by which 
he is best known to posterity. But in the Tatler he was free to be grave 
or gay, to see visions, or throw his lessons into a dream, and without ever 
losing sight of a great moral end, amuse himself and his readers with a 
lively picture of the follies and caprices and wants of the age. His pa- 
pers soon became the chief ornament of the work. " I fared," says Steele, 
"like a distressed Prince, who calls in a powerful neighbour to his aid ; I 
was undone by my auxiliary ; when I had once called him in, I could not 
subsist without dependence upon him." 

Unfortunately he had not yet hit upon any way of distinguishing his 
own papers from those of other contributors. Many of them were writ- 
ten in a kind of partnership with Steele. In others he is supposed to have 
furnished the materials, leaving the labor of working them up to his friend. 
But by far the greater part were written out with all that care and atten- 
tion which he loved to bestow upon his works. "When Tickell prepared 
his edition he applied, by Addison's instructions, to Steele for a list of Ad- 
dison's papers. And it is upon the authority of this list that his edition 
whs formed. The list however was far from being complete. Addison 



THE TATLER. 13 

had occasionally indulged in allusions which he did not care to have laid 
to his door ; and sometimes, too, Steele, who was always in a hurry, forgot 
to distinguish his own papers from those of his Mend. Thus, No. 18, which 
he ascribes to Addison in his preface, was omitted in the list which he 
gaye to Tickell. Hurd, indeed, pretends that there was an immeasurable 
distance between the two writers, and in the papers which they wrote to- 
gether, points you out with a confidence not unworthy of Warburton him- 
self, the very spot in which one stopped and the other began. Nichols, 
however, with better judgment, sought for more positive testimony, and 
has succeeded, by means of tradition, contemporary records and internal 
evidence, in detecting the hand of Addison in several pieces which had al- 
ways been attributed to Steele. A full account of the method which he 
followed in this process of restoration will be found in his edition of the 
Tatler. Subsequent editors have followed his example, and in most of the 
reprints of that work since the appearance of his edition several papers 
are assigned to Addison which are not admitted either by Tickell or Hurd. 

Thus the second part of No. 18 is omitted by Tickell, though Steele in 
the preface to vol. iv. of the Tatler, clearly points to Addison as its au- 
thor. In No. 24 the case is not so clear. Nichols refers to Tickell — but 
why was it omitted in Tick ell's edition ? or where else does he mention it ? 
The internal evidence is not decisive, the manner having full as much of 
Steele as of Addison — even supposing that it were always possible to dis- 
tinguish them. It should be observed, however, that Nichols generally 
cites the Baskerville edition as Tickell's — though it is, I believe, merely a 
reprint of the original edition of 1721. 

For a fuller account of this subject I would refer to the Introduction 
to the American reprint of Nichols's edition of the Tatler, Guardian, and 
Spectator, which will be given as the complement of the present edition j 
1 of Addison. 

The notes marked N. are by Nichols — those with a star from the edi- 
tion of the British Essayists, London, 1825, 3 vols. 8vo. Hurd's and 
those of the present editor are distinguished in the same way as in the 
other volumes of this edition. 

Hurd says : " We now enter on those parts of Mr. Addison's prose- 
works, which have done him the greatest honour, and have placed him at 
the head of those, whom we call our polite writers. I know that many 
readers prefer Dr. Swift's prose to his : — but whatever other merit the 
Dean's writings may have (and they have, certainly, a great deal), I affirm 
it with confidence (because I have examined them both with care) that 
they are not comparable to Mr. Addison's, in the correctness, propriety, 
and elegance of expression. 

" Mr. Addison possessed two talents, both of them very uncommon, 
which singularly qualified him to excel in the following essays : I mean an 
exquisite knowledge of the English tongue, in all its purity and delicacy 



14 THE TATLEE. 

and a vein of humour, -which flowed naturally and abundantly from him 
on every subject; and which experience hath shown to be inimitable. 
But it is in the former respect only, that I shall criticise these papers; and 
I shall do it with severity, lest time, and the authority of his name (which, 
of course, must become sacred), s-iould give a sanction even to his defects. 
If any man of genius should be so happy, as to equal all the excellencies 
of his prose, and to avoid the few blemishes, which may, haply, be found 
in it, he would be a perfect model of style, in this way of writing : but of 
such an one, it is enough to say at present (and I shall, surely, offend no 
good writer in saying it), 

« « .. - hunc nequeo monstrare, & sentio taat&m.' " 



THE TATLER. 



No. 18. SATURDAY, MAY 21, 1709. 

[The first part of this paper was written by Steele. Addison begins 
with the distress of news-writers if the negotiations for peace should 
prove successful — G.] 

— Theue is another sort of gentlemen whom I am much more 
concerned for, and that is the ingenious fraternity of which I 
have the honour to be an unworthy member ; I mean the news- 
writers of Great Britain, whether post-men or post-boys,* or by 
what other name or title soever dignified or distinguished. The 
case of these gentlemen is, I think, more hard than that of the 
soldiers, considering that they have taken more towns, and fought 
more battles. They have been upon parties and skirmishes, 
when our armies have lain still ; and given the general assault 
to many a place, when the besiegers were quiet in their trenches. 
They have made us masters of several strong towns many weeks 
before our generals could do it ; and completed victories, when 
our greatest captains have been glad to come off with a drawn 
battle. Where prince Eugene has slain his thousands, Boyer b 
has slaiu. his ten thousands. This gentleman can indeed be never 
enough commended for his courage and intrepidity during this 

a 'The Post-boy' was a scandalous weekly paper, by Abel Eoper ; aro 
The Flying-Post/ by George Ridpath, was just such another. — N. 
b Abel Boyer, author of 'The Political Sta^e.' — K 



16 THE TATLER. [No. 18, 

whole war : lie lias laid about him with an inexpressible fury ; 
and. like the offended Marius of ancient Rome, has made such 
haroc among his countrymen, as must be the work of two or 
three ages to repair. It must be confessed, the redoubted Mr. 
Buckley a has shed as much blood as the former ; but I can- 
not forbear saying (and I hope it will not look like envy) that we 
regard our brother Buckley as a kind of Drawcansir, who spares 
neither friend nor foe ; but generally kills as many of his own 
side as the enemy's. It is impossible for this ingenious sort of 
men to subsist after a peace : every one remembers the shifts 
they were driven to in the reign of king Charles the Second, 
when they could not furnish out a single paper of news, without 
lighting up a comet in Germany, or a fire in Moscow. There 
scarce appeared a letter without a paragraph on an earthquake 
Prodigies were grown so familiar, that they had lost their name, 
as a great poet of that age has it. I remember Mr. Dyer, b who 
is justly looked upon by all the fox-hunters in the nation as the 
greatest statesman our country has produced, was particularly 
famous for dealing in whales ; insomuch, that in five months time 
(for I had the curiosity to examine his letters on that occasion) 
he brought three into the mouth of the river Thames, besides 
two porpoises and a sturgeon. The judicious and wary Mr. Ich- 
abod Dawfs c hath all along been the rival of this great writer, 
and got himself a reputation from plagues and famines ; by 
which, in those days, he destroyed as great multitudes as he has 
lately done by the sword. In every dearth of news, Grand Cairo 
was sure to be unpeopled. 

It being therefore 'visible, that our society will be greater 

» Samuel Buckley, printer of ' The Gazette,' and also of ' The Daily 
Courant.' — N. 

b 'Dyer's Letter ; ' a news-paper of that time, which, according to Mr 
Addison, was entitled to little credit. — N. 

c Ichabod Dawks, another poor epistolary historian. — IS. 



No. 20.] THE TATLEE 17 

sufferers Dy the peace than the soldiery itself, insomuch that the 
Daily Gourant is in danger of being broken, my friend Dyer of 
being reformed, and the very best of the whole band of being 
reduced to half-pay ; might I presume, to offer any thing in the 
behalf of my distressed brethren, I would humbly move, that an 
appendix of proper apartments furnished with pen, ink, and pa- 
per, and other necessaries of 'life, should be added to the hospi- 
tal of Chelsea, for the relief of such decayed news-writers as 
have served their country in the wars ; and that, for their exer- 
cise, they should compile the annals of their brother veterans, 
who have been engaged in the same service, and are still obliged 
to do duty after the same manner. 

I cannot be thought to speak this out of an eye to any pri- 
vate interest ; for, as my chief scenes of action are coffee-houses, 
play-houses, and my own apartment, I am in no need of camps, 
fortifications, and fields of battle, to support me ; I do not call 
for heroes and generals to my assistance. Though the oflicers 
are broken, and the armies disbanded, I shall still be safe, as 
long as there are men, or women, or politicians, or lovers, or 
poets, or nymphs, or swains, or cits, or courtiers, in being. 



¥o. 20. THURSDAY, MAY 26, 1709. 

[First part by Steele.— Gh] 

— Though the theatre is now breaking, it is allowed still to sell 
animals there ; therefore, if any lady or gentleman have occasion 
for a tame elephant, let them inquire of Mr. Pinkethman, l who 
has one to dispose of at a reasonable rate. The downfal of May- 

1 Chief of a company of strolling players — mentioned in Taker. No 
4.— G. 



18 THE TATLER. [Nb. 20. 

Fair ' has quite sunk the price of this noble creature, as well as 
of many other curiosities of nature. A tiger will sell almost as 
cheap as an ox ; and I am credibly informed, a man may pur- 
chase a cat with three legs, for very near the value of one with 
four. I hear likewise, that there is a great desolation among the 
gentlemen and ladies who were the ornaments of the town, and 
used to shine in plumes and diadems ; the heroes being most of 
them pressed, and the queens beating hemp. Mrs. Sarabrand, 
so famous for her ingenious puppet-show, has set up a shop in 
the Exchange, where she sells her little troop under the term of 
Jointed Babies. I could not but be solicitous to know of her, 
how she had disposed of that rake-hell Punch, whose lewd life 
and conversation had given so much scandal, and did not a little 
contribute to the ruin of the fair. She told me with a sigh, that 
despairing of ever reclaiming him, she would not offer to place 
him in a civil family, but got him in a post upon a stall in Wap- 
ping, where he may be seen from sun-rising to sun-setting, with 
a glass in one hand, and a pipe in the other, as sentry to a brandy 
shop. The great revolutions of this nature bring to my mind 
the distresses of the unfortunate Camilla, 2 who has had the ill 
luck to break before her voice, and to disappear at a time when 
her beauty was in the height of its bloom. This lady entered 
so thoroughly into the great characters she acted, that when she 
had finished her part, she could not think of retrenching her 
equipage, but would appear in her own lodgings with the same 
magnificence that she did upon the stage. This greatness of 
soul has reduced that unhappy princess to an involuntary retire- 
ment, where she now passes her time among the woods and for- 

1 A yearly fair, lasting from May 1 to 15, in Brookfield, "Westminster, 
established under James II., and abolished in 1709, upon presentment as 
a nuisance by the grand jury of Westminster. — Gr. 

* Mrs. Tofts — V. the sketch of her in Nichols's notes. — Gr. 



No 20.] THE TATLEE. 19 

ests, thinking on the crowns and sceptres she has lost, and often- 
humming over in her solitude, 

I was born of royal race, 

Yet must wander in disgrace, (fee. 

But for fear of being overheard, and her quality known,* she 
usually sings it in Italian ; 

Nacqui al regno, nacqui al trono 
E pur sono 
Sventurata pastorella 

Since I have touched upon this subject, I shall communicate to 
my reader part of a letter I have received from a friend at Am- 
sterdam, where there is a very noble theatre ; though the man- 
ner of furnishing it with actors is something peculiar to that 
place, and gives us occasion to admire both the politeness and 
frugality of the people. 

" My friends have kept me here a week longer than ordinary 
to see one of their plays, which was performed last night with 
great applause. The actors are all of them tradesmen, who, af- 
ter their day's work is over, earn about a guilder a night by per- 
sonating kings and generals. The hero of the tragedy I saw, 
was a journeyman taylor, and his first minister of state a coffeo- 
man. The empress made me think of Parthenope in the Ke- 
hearsal ; for her mother keeps an ale-house in the suburbs of 
Amsterdam. "When the tragedy was over, they entertained us 
with a short farce, in which the cobbler did his part to a mira- 
cle ; but, upon inquiry, I found he had really been working at 
his own trade, and representing on the stage what he acted every 
day in his shop. The profits of the theatre maintain an hospi- 
tal : for as here they do not think the profession of an actor the 

a Easily expressed, but not exactly. Better : " But for fear of being 
over-heard, and lest her quality should be known.** 



20 THE TATLER. [No. 24 

only trade that a man ought to exercise, so they will not allow 
any body to grow rich on a profession that in their opinion so 
little conduces to the good of the commonwealth. If I am not 
mistaken, your playhouses in England have done the same thing ; 
for, unless I am misinformed, the hospital at Dulledge wa& 
erected and endowed by Mr. Alleyn, 1 a player : and it is alsc 
said, a famous 2 she-tragedian has settled her estate, after hei 
death, for the maintenance of decayed wits, who are to be taken 
in as soon as they grow dull, at whatever time of their life that 
shall happen. 



No. 24.— SATURDAY, JUNE 4, 1709. 



Quicquid agunt homines - 



- nostri est farrago libelli. — Jut. Sat. i. 85, 86. 

What e'er men do, or say, or think, or dream, 
Our motley paper seizes for it's theme.— P. 

White's Chocolate-house, June 2. 
In my paper of the twenty-eighth of the last month, I men 
tioned several characters which want explanation to the general- 
ity of readers : among others I spoke of a Pretty Fellow. I 
have received a kind admonition in a letter, to take care that I 
do not omit to show also what is meant by a Very Pretty Fel- 
low, which is to be allowed as a character by itself, and a person 
exalted above the other by a peculiar sprightliness ; as one who, 
by a distinguishing vigour, outstrips his companions, and has 
thereby deserved and obtained a particular appellation or nick- 
name of familiarity. Some have this distinction from the fair- 
Bex, who are so generous as to take into their protection such as 

i Edward Alleyn— V. Nich Is.— G. 

2 Mrs. Anne Bracegirdle — Y Nichols's note. — G. 



No. 24.] THE TATLER. 21 

are laughed at by the men, and place them for that reason in de- 
grees of favour. 

The chief of this sort is colonel Brunett, who is a man of 
fashion, because he will be so ; and practises a very janty way 
of behaviour, because he is too careless to know when he of- 
fends, and too sanguine to be mortified if he did know it. Thus 
the colonel has met with a town ready to receive him, and can- 
not possibly see why he should not make use of their favour, and 
set himself in the first degree of conversation. Therefore he is 
very successfully loud among the wits, and familiar among the 
ladies, and dissolute among the rakes. Thus he is admitted in 
one place because he is so in another ; and every man treats 
Brunett well, not out of his particular esteem for him, but in re- 
spect to the opinion of others. It is to me a solid pleasure to 
see the world thus mistaken on the good-natured side ; for it is 
ten to one but the colonel mounts into a general officer, marries 
a fine lady, and is master of a good estate, before they come to 
explain upon him. What gives most delight to me in this ob- 
servation is, that all this arises from pure nature, and the colonel 
can account for his success no more than those by whom he suo- 
eeeds. For these causes and considerations, I pronounce him a 
true woman's man, and in the first degree * A very Pretty Fellow.' 

The next to a man of this universal genius is one who is pe- 
culiarly formed for the service of the ladies, and his merit chiefly 
is to be of no consequence. I am indeed a little in doubt, 
whether he ought not rather to be called a very Happy, than a 
very Pretty Fellow ? for he is admitted at all hours : all he says 
or does, which would offend in another, are passed over in him ; 
and all actions and speeches which please, doubly please if they 
come from him : no one wonders or takes notice when he is 
wrong ; but all admire him when he is in the right. — By the 
way, it is fit to remark, that there are people :>f better sense than 



22 THETATLER. [No. 24 

these, who endeavour at this character ; but they are out of na- 
ture ; and though, with some industry, they get the characters 
of fools, they cannot arrive to be very, seldom to be merely 
1 Pretty Fellows.' But, where nature has formed a person for 
this station amongst men, he is gifted with a peculiar genius for 
success, and his very errors and absurdities contribute to it ; this 
felicity attending him to his life's end : for it being in a manner 
necessary that he should be of no consequence, he is as well in 
old age as youth ; and I know a man, whose son has been som<» 
years a ' Pretty Fellow,' who is himself at this hour a very Pret 
ty Fellow. 

One must move tenderly in this place, for we are now in the 
ladies' lodgings, and speaking of such as are supported by their 
influence and favour ; against which there is not, neither ought 
there to be, any dispute or observation. But when we come into 
more free air, one may talk a little more at large. 

Give me leave then to mention three, whom I do not doubt 
but we shall see make considerable figures ; and these are such 
as for their Bacchanalian performances must be admitted into 
this t>rder. They are three brothers lately landed from Holland ; 
as yet, indeed, they have not made their public entry, but lodge 
and converse at Wapping. They have merited already on the 
water-side particular titles : the first is called Hogshead ; the sec- 
ond, Culverin ; ! and the third, Musquet. This fraternity is 
preparing for our end of the town by their ability in the exer 
cises of Bacchus, and measure their time and merit by liquid 
weight, and power of drinking. Hogshead is a prettier Fellow 
than Culverin, by two quarts ; and Culverin than Musquet, by a 
full pint. It is to be feared Hogshead is so often too full, and 
Culverin overloaded, that Musquet will be the only lasting Very 
Pretty Fellow of the three. 

1 Three men of distinction — supposed to be nobleoen. — V. Nichols. — G. 



Ko. 24.] THE TATLEE. 23 

A third sort of this denomination is such as, by very daring 
adventures in love, have purchased to themselves rencwn and 
new names ; as Jo Carry, for his excessive strength and vigour ; 
Tom Drybones, for his generous loss of youth and health ; and 
Cancrum, for his meritorious rottenness. 

These great and leading spirits are proposed to all such of 
our British youth as would arrive at perfection in these different 
kinds ; and if their parts and accomplishments were well imitat- 
ed, it is not doubted but that our nation would soon excel all 
others in wit and arts, as they already do in arms. 

N. B. The gentleman who stole Betty Pepin a may own it 
for he is allowed to be ' A very Pretty Fellow.' 

But we must proceed to the explanation of other terms in 
our writings. 

To know what a Toast is in the country gives as much per- 
plexity as she herself does in town : and indeed the learned dif- 
fer very much upon the original of this word, and the accepta- 
tion of it among the moderns. However, it is by all agreed to 
have a joyous and cheerful import. A toast in a cold morning, 
heightened by nutmeg, and sweetened with sugar, has for many 
ages been given to our rural dispensers of justice, before they 
entered upon causes, and has been of great and politic use to 
take off the severity of their sentences ; but has indeed been re- 
markable for one ill effect, that it inclines those who use it im- 
moderately to speak Latin, to the admiration rather than infor- 
mation of an audience. This application of a toast makes it 
very obvious that the word may, without a metaphor, be under- 
stood as an apt name for a thing which raises us in the most 
sovereign degree. But many of the wits of the last age will as- 
sert that the word, in its present sense, was known among them 

a The kept mistress of a knight of the shire near Brentford, who 
squandered his estate on women, and in contested elections. — N. 



24 THE TATLER. [No. 24 

m their youth, and had its rise from an accident at the town of 
Bath, in the reign of king Charles the Second. 

It happened that, on a public day, a celebrated beauty of 
those times was in the Cross Bath, and one of the crowd of her 
admirers took a glass of the water in which the fair one stood, 
and drank her health to the company. There was in the place a 
gay fellow half fuddled, who offered to jump in, and swore, 
though he liked not the liquor, he would have the toast. He 
was opposed in his resolution ; yet this whim gave foundation to 
the present honour which is done to the lady we mention in our 
liquors, who has ever since been called a Toast. 

Though this institution had so trivial a beginning, it is now 
elevated into a formal order ; and that happy virgin, who is re- 
ceived and drunk to at their meetings, has no more to do in this 
life, but to judge and accept of the first good offer. The manner 
of her inauguration is much like that of the choice of a doge in 
Venice : it is performed by balloting ; and when she is so cho- 
sen, she reigns indisputably for that ensuing year ; but must be 
elected a-new to prolong her empire a moment beyond it. When 
she is regularly chosen, her name is written with a diamond on a 
drinking-glass. a The hieroglyphic of the diamond is to show 
her, that her value is imaginary ; and that of the glass to ac 
quaint her, that her condition is frail, and depends on the hand 
which holds her. This wise design admonishes her, neither to 
over-rate or depreciate her charms ; as well considering and ap- 
plying, that it is perfectly according to the humour and taste of 
the company, whether the toast is eaten, or left as an offal. 

• It was the fashion of the time, to inscribe verses thus to the reigning 
beauties. Several of these sprightly productions, ' on the toasting-glasses 
of the Kit-cat Club,' by the Lords Halifax, Wharton, Lansdowne, and Car- 
bury, by Mr. May n waring, and other poetical members of that ingenious 
society, may be seen in Nichols's 'Select Collection of Miscellany Poems,' 
vol. v. pp. 168, 178, 176, [and for a specimen of Addison's taste in this 
line, vol. i. p. 214. The present Edition. — GL] 



No. 42.] THE TATLER. 25 

The foremost of the whole rank of toasts, and the most in- 
disputed in their present empire, are Mrs. G-atty and Mrs. Front- 
let : the first an agreeable, the second an awful beauty. These 
ladies are perfect friends, out of a knowledge, that their perfec- 
tions are too different to stand in competition. He that likes 
G-atty can have no relish for so solemn a creature as Frontlet ; 
and an admirer of Frontlet .will call G-atty a maypole girl. Gatty 
for ever smiles upon you ; and Frontlet disdains to see you smile. 
Gatty 's love is a shining quick flame ; Frontlet's, a slow wasting 
fire. Gatty likes the man that diverts her ; Frontlet, him who 
adores her. G-atty always improves the soil in which she trav- 
els ; Frontlet lays waste the country. G-atty does not only smile, 
but laughs at her lover ; Frontlet not only looks serious, but 
frowns at him. All the men of wit (and coxcombs their follow- 
ers) are professed servants of Gatty: the politicians and pre- 
tenders give solemn worship to Frontlet. Their reign will be 
best judged of b} r its duration. Frontlet will never be chosen 
more ; and Gatty is a toast for life. 



No. 42. SATURDAY, JULY 16. 1709. 

Celebrare domestica facta. 

[The first part of this paper was written by Steele.] 

— This is to give notice, that a magnificent palace, with great 
variety of gardens, statues, and water-works, may be bought 
cheap in Drury-Lane, 1 where there are likewise several castles to 
be disposed of, very delightfully situated ; as also groves, woods, 
forests, fountains, and country seats, with very pleasant pros- 
pects on all sides of them ; being the moveables of Christopher 

k JLJniiy-Lane theatre had been closed by an order of the Lord Cham 
berlain. — G-. 

VOL. TV. 2 



26 THETATLER. [ No - 42 

Rich Esq., who is breaking up house-keeping, and has many c.u 
rious pieces of furniture to dispose of, which may be seen be- 
tween the hours of six and ten in the evening. 

THE INVENTORY. 

Spirits of right Nants brandy, for lambent flames and appa- 
ritions. 

Three bottles and a half of lightning. 

One shower of snow in the whitest French paper. 

Two showers of a browner sort. 

A sea, consisting of a dozen large waves, the tenth 1 biggei 
than ordinary, and a little damaged. 

A dozen and a half of clouds, trimmed with black, and well 
conditioned. 

A rainbow, a little faded. 

A set of clouds after the French mode, streaked with light- 
ing, and furbelowed. 

A new-moon, something decayed. 

A pint of the finest Spanish wash, being all that is left of 
two hogsheads sent Over last winter. 

A coach very finely gilt, and little used, with a pair of drag- 
ons, to be sold cheap. 

A setting sun, a pennyworth. 

An imperial mantle, made for Cyrus the great, ami worn by 
Julius Csesar, Bajazet, King Harry the Eighth, and Signio? 
Valentini. 

A basket-hilt sword, very convenient to carry milk in. 

Roxana's night gown. 

Othello's handkerchief. 

The imperial robes of Xerxes, never worn but once. 

1 Tenth wave, "Fluctus. decuman us," according to the Latin poets, the 
arg^st and most dangerous. — G. 



No. 42.] THE TATLER. 2? 

A wild boar, killed by Mrs. Tofts and Dioclesian. 

A serpent to sting Cleopatra. 

A mustard bowl to make thunder with. 

Another of a bigger sort, by Mr. D is's directions, little 

used. 4 

Six elbow chairs, very expert in country dances, with slj 
flower-pots for their partners. 

The whiskers of a Turkish bassa. 

The complexion of a murderer in a bandbox 5 consisting of 1 
large piece of burnt cork, and a coal-black peruke. 

A suit of clothes for a ghost, viz. a bloody shirt, a doublet 
curiously pinked, and a coat with three great eyelet-holes upor 
the breast. 

A bale of red Spanish wool. 

Modern plots, commonly known by the name of trap-doors, 
ladders of ropes, vizard masques, and tables with broad carpets 
over them. 

Three oak cudgels, with one of crab-tree ; all bought for the 
use of Mr. Pinkethman. 

Materials for dancing ; as masques, castanets, and a ladder 
of ten rounds. 

Aurengzebe's scymitar, made by Will. Brown in Piccadilly 

A plume of feathers, never used but by Oedipus and the 
Earl of Essex. 

There are also swords, halberts, sheep-hooks, cardinal hats, 
turbans, drums, gallipots, a gibbet, a cradle, a rack, a cart-wheel. 
an altar, a helmet, a back-piece, a breast-plate, a bell, a tub, and 
a jointed baby. 

1 Dennis — of whom Pope says, 

" And all the mighty mad in Dennis rage "--Bunciad, b. I. v. 104 
had just invented his new method of making thunder 1 v. also ]STieho'i 
ad loc. — G-. 



28 THE TATLER. [No. 16. 

These are the hard shifts we intelligencers are forced to ; 
therefore our readers ought to excuse us, if a westerly wind 
blowing for a fortnight together, generally fills every paper with 
an order of battle ; when we show our martial skill in each line, 
and according to the space we have to fill, we range our men in 
squadrons and battalions, or draw out company by company, and 
troop by troop ; ever observing, that no muster is to be made, 
but when the wind is in a cross point, which often happens at the 
end of a campaign, when half the men are deserted or killed. 
The Courant is sometimes ten deep, his ranks close : the Post- 
boy is generally in files, for greater exactness : and the Post- 
man comes down upon you rather after the Turkish way, sword 
in hand, pell-mell, without form or discipline ; but sure to bring 
men enough into the field ; and wherever they are raised, never 
to lose a battle for want of numbers.* 



No. 75. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 1, 1709. 

From my own Apartment, September 20. 
"Jam called off from public dissertations by a domestic affair 
of great importance, which is no less than the disposal of my 
sister Jenny for life. The girl is a girl of great merit, and plea- 
sing conversation ; but I being born of my father's first wife, 
and she of his third, she converses with me rather like a daugh 
ter than a sister. I have indeed told her, that if she kept he* 
honour, and behaved herself in such a manner as became th<* 
Bickerstaffs, I would get her an agreeable man for her husband ; 
which was a promise I made her after reading a passage in Pli- 

a Of this paper, the inventory only, as I take it, is Mr. Addison's 
[Why?— G.] 

t> The opening of this paper, to — "o »r own family in this particular" 
— is Sir Richard Steele's. Mr. Addison's and is only to be traced in the 
genealogy. [Hurd, by conjecture. — Gr.] 



fcO* ? 6 «] THE TATLER. 29 

uy's Epistles. That polite author had been employed to find 
out a consort for his friend's daughter, and gives the folio ving 
character of the man he had pitched upon. 

Aciliano plurimum vigoris et industrise quanquam in maxima 
verecundia : est illi facies liberalis, multo sanguine, multo rubore, 
suffusa : est ingenua totius corporis pulchritudo, et quidam sena- 
torius decor, quae ego nequaquam arbitror negligenda ; debet 
enim hoc castitati puellarum quasi praemiuni dari. 1 

" Acillanus is a man of extraordinary vigour and industry, 
accompanied with the greatest modesty. He has very much of 
the gentleman, with a lively colour, and flush of health in his 
aspect. His whole person is finely turned, and speaks him a 
man of quality : which are qualifications that, I think, ought by 
no means to be overlooked, and should be bestowed on a daugh- 
ter as the reward of her chastity." 

A woman that will give herself liberties, need not put her 
parents to so much trouble ; for if she does not possess these orna 
ments a in a husband, she can supply herself elsewhere. But this 
is not the case of my sister Jenny, who, I may say without vanity, 
is as unspotted a spinster as any in Great Britain. I shall take 
this occasion to recommend the conduct of our own family in 
this particular.* 

We have in the genealogy of our house, the descriptions and 
pictures of our ancestors from the time of King Arthur ; in whose 
«days there was one of my own name, a knight of his round table, 

i Plinii. See E'pistolse, L. 1. ep. xiv. (Nichols). — G-. 

a These ornaments. "Advantages" had been better. 

b In this particular. In what particular ? in that of Jenny's chastity.— 
But there is not a word on the subject, in what follows. I take for grant- 
ed that, in Sir Richard Steele's draught of this paper, a paragraph was 
here inserted, to shew the care of the Bickerstaffs, in providing for the 
honour of the female part of their family ; which, not being to Mr. Addi- 
son's mind, was struck out, to make room for this pleasant account of 
their genealogy, But when this was done, it was forgotten to make th<? 
requisite change in the introduction. 



30 THETATLER. [No. 75. 

and known by the name of Sir Isaac Bickerstaff. He was low of 
stature, and of a very swarthy complexion^ not unlike a Portu- 
guese Jew. But he was more prudent than men of that height 
usually are, and would often communicate to his friends his de- 
sign of lengthening and whitening his posterity. His eldest son 
Ralph (for that was his name) was for this reason married to a 
lady who had little else to recommend her, but that she was very 
tall and fair. The issue of this match, with the help of his shoes, 
made a tolerable figure in the next age ; though the complexion 
of the family was obscure 'till the fourth generation from that 
marriage. From which time, till the reign of William the Con- 
queror, the females of our house were famous for their needle- 
work and fine skins. In the male line there happened an un- 
lucky accident in the reign of Richard the Third, the eldest son of 
Philip, then chief of the family, being born with an hump-back 
and very high nose. This was the more astonishing, because 
none of his forefathers ever had such a blemish ; nor indeed was 
there any in the neighbourhood of that make except the butler, 
who was noted for round shoulders, and a Roman nose ; what 
made the nose the less excusable, was the remarkable smallness 
of his eyes. 

These several defects were mended by succeeding matches ; 
the eyes were opened in the next generation, and the hump fell 
in a century and a half; but the greatest difficulty was how to 
reduce the nose ; which I do not find was accomplished till about 
the middle of Henry the Seventh's reign, or rather the beginning 
of that of Henry the Eighth. 1 

But while our ancestors were thus taken up in cultivating the 
eyes and nose, the face of the Bickerstaffs fell clown insensibly 
into the chin ; which was not taken notice of (their thoughts 

» V. Nichols's note.— G. 



No. 7 5. J THE TATLER. 3 1 

being so much employed upon the more noble features) till it be- 
came almost too long to be remedied. 

But length of time, and successive care in our alliances, have 
cured this also, and reduced our faces into that tolerable oval 
which we enjoy at present. I would not be tedious in this dis 
course, but cannot but observe, that our race suffered very much 
about three hundred years ago, by the marriage of one of her 
heiresses with an eminent courtier, who gave us spindle shanks, 
and cramps in our bones, insomuch that we did not recover our 
health and legs till Sir Walter Bickerstaff married Maud the 
milk-maid, of whom the then Garter king at arms (a facetious 
person) said pleasantly enough, that she had spoiled our blood, 
but mended our constitutions. 

After this account of the effect our prudent choice of matches 
has had upon our persons and features, I cannot but observe, 
that there are daily instances of as great changes made by mar- 
riage upon men's minds and humours. One might wear any pas- 
sion out of a family by culture, as skilful gardeners blot a colour 
out of a tulip that hurts its beauty. One might produce an af- 
fable temper out of a shrew, by grafting the mild upon the chole- 
ric ; or raise a jackpudding from a prude, by inoculating mirth 
and melancholy.* It is for want of care in the disposing of our 
children, with regard to our bodies and minds, that we go into an 
house and see such different complexions and humours in the same 
race and family. But to me it is as plain as a pike-staff, from 
what mixture it is, that this daughter silently lowers, the other 
steals a kind look at you, a third is exactly well behaved, a fourth 
a splenetic, and a fifth a coquette. 

In this disposal of my sister, I have chosen, with an eye to 
aer being a wit, and provided, that the bridegroom be a man of a 

a The rest of this paper by Sir Richard Steele. [So says Hurd by cou- 
jocture. — G.] 



32 THETATLER. [No. 75 

sound and excellent judgment, who will seldom mind what she 
says when she begins to harangue : for Jenny's only imperfection 
is an admiration of her parts, which inclines her to be a little, 
but a very little, sluttish ; and you are ever to remark, that we 
are apt to cultivate most, and bring into observation, what we 
think most excellent in ourselves, or most capable of improve- 
ment. Thus my sister, instead of consulting her glass and her 
toilet for an hour and an half after her private devotion, sits with 
her nose full of snuff, and a man's nightcap on her head, reading 
plays and romances. Her wit she thinks her distinction ; there- 
fore knows nothing of the skill of dress, or making her person 
agreeable. It would make you laugh, to see me often with my 
spectacles on lacing her stays ; for she is so very a wit, that she 
understands no ordinary thing in the world. 

For this reason I have disposed of her to a man of business, 
who will soon let her see, that to be well dressed, in good hu- 
mour, and cheerful in the command of her family, are the arts 
and sciences of female life. 1 I could have bestowed her upon 
a fine gentleman, who extremely admired her wit, and would have 
given her a coach and six ; but I found it absolutely necessary to 
cross the strain ; 2 for had they met, they had eternally been ri- 
vals in discourse, and in continual contention for the superiority 
of understanding, and brought forth critics, pedants, or pretty 
good poets. 

As it is, I expect an offspring fit for the habitation of city, 
town, or country ; creatures that are docile and tractable in what- 
ever we put them to. 

To convince men of the necessity of taking this method, let 

i This standard of female excellence which would hardly pass good for 
:mr day, is even lower than Swift's. V. 'Letter to a very young lady ^yi 
her marriage.' — Swift's Works. — G-. 

2 Strain — obsolete in this sense. — G. 



No 15.~\ THE TATLER. 33 

any one, even below the skill of an astrologer, behold the tarn of 
faces he meets as soon as he passes Cheapside conduit, and you 
see a deep attention and a certain unthinking sharpness in every 
countenance. They look attentive, but their thoughts are en- 
gaged on mean purposes. To me it is very apparent when I see 
a citizen pass by, whether his head is upon woollen, silks, iron, 
sugar, indigo, or stocks. Now this trace of thought appears or 
lies hid in the race for two or three generations. 

I know at this time a person of a vast estate, who is the im- 
mediate descendant of a fine gentleman, but the great-grandson 
of a broker, in whom his ancestor is now revived. He is a very 
honest gentleman in his principles, but cannot for his blood talk 
fairly : he is heartily sorry for it ; but he cheats by constitution, 
and over-reaches by instinct. 

The happiness of the man who marries my sister will be, that 
he has no faults to correct in her but her own, a little bias of 
fancy, or particularity of manners, which grew in herself, and can 
be amended by her. From such an untainted couple, we can 
hope to have our family rise to its ancient splendour of face, air, 
countenance, manner, and shape, without discovering the product 
of ten nations in one house. Obadiah Greenhat says, he never 
comes into any company in England, but he distinguishes the 
different nations of which we are composed : there is scarce such 
a living creature as a true Briton. We sit down indeed all 
friends, acquaintance, and neighbours ; but after two bottles, you 
see a Dane start up and swear, ' The kingdom is his own.' A 
Saxon drinks up the whole quart, and swears, ' He will dispute 
that with him.' A Norman tells them both, c He will assert his 
liberty ; ' And a Welshman cries, ' They are all foreigners, and 
intruders of yesterday,' and beats them out of the room. Such 
accidents happen frequently among neighbours' children, and 
cousin-germans. For which reason, I say, study your race, 01 
VOL. iv. — 2* 



34 THE TATLER, j> T 0. 81. 

the soil of your family will dwindle into cits or 'squires, or run 
up into wits or madmen. 

Sir Richard Steele assisted in this paper.* T. 



No. 81. SATURDAY. OBTOBER 15, 1709. 

L Part of this paper was once supposed to have been written by Swift 
V. Nichols ad Loc. — G.] 

Hie maims ob patriam pugnando vulnera passi, 
Quique pii Vates et Phsebo digna locuti, 
Inventas aut qui vitam excoluere perartes, 
Quique sui memores alios fecere merendo. — Virg. 

From my own Apartment, October 14. 

There are two kinds of immortality; that which the soul 
really enjoys after this life, and that imaginary existence by 
which men live in their fame and reputation. The best and 
greatest actions have proceeded from the prospect of the one or 
the other of these ; but my design is to treat only of those who 
have chiefly proposed to themselves the latter as the principal re- 
ward of their labours. It was for this reason that I excluded 
from my tables of fame all the great founders and votaries of re- 
ligion ; and it is for this reason also, that I am more than ordi- 
narily anxious to do justice to the persons of whom I am now 

a It is an absurd practice for two men of wit, let their talents be 
what they will, to write in concert. The effect, at best, can be only the 
production of a motley, discordant piece, though the contributions of each, 
taken separately, be ever so excellent. But when two such writers as Mr. 
A. and Sir R. Steele, join in composing one of these papers, the misalliance 
is not only great, but the contrast ridiculous. 

[Hurd, like Macaulay, Miss Aikin, and too many others is very unjust 
towards Steele : who, though inferior to Addison, was a writer of great 
merit, and it is not always easy to distinguish his papers in the Tatler from 
those of his friend. Gibbon took a different view of this ' writing in con- 
cert,' which Colman and Thornton carried out fully in the Connoisseur. 
V. Gibbon's Memoirs, p. 86. — G.] 



No. 81.] THETATLER. 35 

going to speak ; for since fame was the only end of all their en- 
terprises and studies, a man cannot be too scrupulous in allotting 
them their due proportion of it. It was this consideration which 
made me call the whole body of the learned to my assistance , 
to many of whom I must own my obligations for the catalogues 
of illustrious persons which they have sent me in upon this occa- 
sion. I yesterday employed the whole afternoon in comparing 
them with each other ; which made so strong an impression upon 
my imagination, that they broke my sleep for the first part of the 
following night, and at length threw me into a very agreeable 
vision, which I shall beg leave to describe in all its particulars. 

I dreamed that I was conveyed into a wide and boundless 
plain, that was covered a with prodigious multitudes of people, 
which no man could number. In the midst of it there stood a 
mountain, with its head above the clouds. The sides were ex- 
tremely steep, and of such a particular structure, that no creature, 
which was not made in an human figure, could possibly ascend it. 
On a sudden there was heard from the top of it a sound like that 
of a trumpet; but so exceeding sweet and harmonious, that it 
filled the hearts of those who heard it with raptures, and gave 
such high and delightful sensations, as seemed to animate and 
raise human nature above itself. This made me very much 
amazed to find so very few in that innumerable multitude, who 
had ears fine enough to hear or relish this music with pleasure : 
but my wonder abated, when, upon looking round me, I saw most 
of them attentive to three Sirens clothed like goddesses, and dis- 
tinguished by the names of Sloth, Ignorance, and Pleasure. 
They were seated on three rocks, amidst a beautiful variety of 
groves, meadows, and rivulets, that lay on the borders of the 
mountain. While the base and groveling multitude of different 

a Plain, that was covered. Better say, "plain covered" — to avoid the 
double relative — "that wa3 covered" — which no man could nu*aber." 



36 THE TATLER. LNo. 81 

nations, ranks and ages, were listening to these delusive deities, 
those of a more erect aspect and exalted spirit separated them- 
selves from the rest, and marched in great bodies towards the 
mountain ; from * whence they heard the sound, which still grew 
sweeter the more they listened to it. 

On a sudden, methought this select band sprang forward, with 
a resolution to climb the ascent, and follow the call of that hea- 
venly music. Every one took something with him that he 
thought might be of assistance to him in his march. Several had 
their swords drawn, some carried rolls of paper in their hands, 
some had compasses, others quadrants, others telescopes, and 
others pencils ; some had laurels on their heads, and others bus- 
kins on their legs : in short, there was scarce any instrument of 
a mechanic art or liberal science, which was not made use of on 
this occasion. My good daemon, who stood at my right hand 
during the course of this whole vision, observing in me a burning 
desire to join that glorious company, told me, he highly approved 
that generous ardour with which I seemed transported ; but, at 
the same time, advised me to cover my face with a mask all the 
while I was to labour on the ascent. I took his counsel without 
inquiring into his reasons. The whole body now broke into dif- 
ferent parties, and began to climb the precipice by ten thousand 
different paths. Several got into little alleys, which did not 
reach far up the hill, before they ended and led no further : and 
I observed that most of the artisans, which considerably di- 
minished our number, fell into these paths. 

We left another considerable body of adventurers behind us, 
who thought they had discovered by-ways up the hill, which 
proved so very intricate and perplexed, that, after having ad- 
vanced in them a little, they were quite lost among the several 

a Fi om, is redundant, and had better been omitted. 



No. 81.] THE TATLER. 37 

turns and windings ; and though they were as active as any in 
their motions, they made but little progress in the ascent. These 
as my guide informed me, were men of subtle tempers, and 
puzzled politics, who would supply the place of real wisdom with 
cunning and artifice. Among those who were far advanced in 
their way, there were some that by one false step fell backward, 
and lost more ground in a moment, than they had gained for 
many hours, or could be ever able to recover." We were now 
advanced very high, and observed, that all the different paths 
which ran about the sides of the mountain, began to meet in two 
great roads, which insensibly gathered the whole multitude of 
travellers into two great bodies. At a little distance from the 
entrance of each road, there stood an hideous phantom, that op- 
posed our further passage. One of these apparitions had his 
right hand filled with darts, which he brandished in the face of 
al 1 who came up that way. Crowds ran back at the appearance 
of it, and cried out, Death. The spectre that guarded the other 
road, was Envy : she was not armed with weapons of destruc- 
tion like the former ; but by dreadful hissings, noises of reproach 
and a horrid distracted laughter, she appeared more frightful 
than death itself, insomuch, that abundance of our company 
were discouraged from passing any further, and some appeared 
ashamed of having come so far. As for myself, I must confess 
my heart shrunk within me at the sight of these ghastly appear- 
ances : but on a sudden, the voice of the trumpet came more 
full upon us, so that we felt a new resolution reviving in us ; and 
in proportion as this resolution grew, the terrors before us 
seemed to vanish. Most of the company who had swords in 
their hands, marched on with great spirit, and an air of defiance, 
up the road that was commanded by Death ; while others, who 

a i. e. Were tble to be ever able. It should have been, "or could offer 
wards recover." 



38 THE TATLER. [No 81. 

had thought and contemplation in their looks, went forward in a 
more composed manner up the road possessed by Envy. The 
way above these apparitions grew smooth and uniform, and was 
so delightful, that the travellers went on with pleasure, and in a 
little time arrived at the top of the mountain. They here began 
to breathe* a delicious kind of asther, and saw all the fields about 
them covered with a kind of purple light, that made them reflect 
with satisfaction on their past toils, and diffused a secret joy 
through the whole assembly, which shewed itself in every look 
and feature. In the midst of these happy fields, there stood a 
palace of a very glorious structure ; it had four great folding 
doors, that faced the four several quarters of the world. On 
the top of it was enthroned the goddess of the mountain, who 
smiled upon her votaries, and sounded the silver trumpet which 
had called them up, and cheered them in their passage to her 
palace. They had now formed themselves into several divisions, 
a band of historians taking their stations at each door, b according 
to the persons whom they were to introduce. 

On a sudden the trumpet, which had hitherto sounded, only 
a march, or a point of war, now swelled all its notes into triumph 
and exultation : the whole fabric shook, and the doors flew open. 
The first who stepped forward, was a beautiful and blooming 
hero, and as I heard by the murmurs round me, Alexander the 
Great. He was conducted by a crowd of historians. The per- 
son who immediately walked before him, was remarkable for an 

a " They here began to breathe " — to " look and feature " Two or three 
little blemishes, which the reader will observe in this sentence, may be 
removed by reading thus: — " They here began to breathe a delicious kind 
of aether, and saw all the fields about them covered with a [kind of] pur- 
ple light, that made them reflect with satisfaction on their past toils, and 
difxuied a secret joy through the whole assembly [which shewed itself in 
every look and feature'] — Omitting what is contained between the crotchets, 
for obvious reasons. 

b Negligently expressed. Better in som.e such way as this: — "a band 
of historians, whose office it was to introduce their respective worthies, taking 
their stations at each door." 



No. 81.] THE TATLER. 39 

embroidered garment, who not being well acquainted with the 
place, was conducting him to an apartment appointed for the re- 
ception of fabulous heroes. The name of this false guide was 
Quintus Curtius. But Arrian and Plutarch, who knew better 
the avenues of this palace, conducted him into the great hall, 
and placed him at the upper end of the first table. My good 
daemon, that I might see the whole ceremony, conveyed me to a 
corner of this room, where I might perceive all that passed, with- 
out being seen myself. The next who entered was a charming 
virgin, leading in a venerable old man that was blind. Under 
her left arm she bore a harp, and on her head a garland. Alex- 
ander, who was very well acquainted with Homer, stood up at 
his entrance and placed him on his right hand. The virgin, who 
it seems was one of the nine sisters that attended on the goddess 
of Fame, smiled with an ineffable grace at their meeting, and 
retired. 

Julius Caesar was now coming forward ; and though most of 
the historians offered their service to introduce him, he left them 
at the door, and would have no conductor but himself. 

The next who advanced, was a man of a homely but cheer- 
ful aspect, and attended by persons of greater figure than any 
that appeared on this occasion. Plato was on his right-hand, 
and Xenophon on his left. He bowed to Homer, and sat down 
by him. It was expected that Plato would himself have taken 
a place next to his master Socrates ; but, on a sudden, there was 
heard a great clamour of disputants at the door, who appeared 
with Aristotle at the head of them. That philosopher, with 
some rudeness, but great strength of reason, convinced the whole 
table, that a title to the fifth place was his due, and took it ac- 
cordingly. 

He had scarce sat down, when the same beautiful virgin that 
bad introduced Homer brought in another, who hung back at the 



40 THE TATLEE. [No. B* 

entrance, and would have excused himself, had not his modesty 
been overcome by the invitation of all who sat at the table. His 
guide and behaviour made me easily conclude it was Virgil. Ci- 
cero next appeared, and took his place. He had inquired at the 
door for Lucceius to introduce him : but not finding him there, 
he contented himself with the attendance of many other writers, 
who all (except Sallust) appeared highly pleased with the office. 

We waited some time in expectation of the next worthy, 
who came in with a great retinue of historians, whose names I 
could not learn, most of them being natives of Carthage. The 
person thus conducted, who was Hannibal, seemed much dis- 
turbed, and could not forbear complaining to the board of the 
affronts he had met with among the Roman historians, who at- 
tempted, says he, to carry me into the subterraneous apartment ; 
and, perhaps, would have done it, had it not been for the impar- 
tiality of this gentleman, pointing to Polybius, who was the only 
person, except my own countrymen, that was willing to conduct 
me hither. 

The Carthaginian took his seat, and Pompey entered with 
great dignity in his own person, and preceded a by several his- 
torians. Lucan the poet was at the head of them, who, observ- 
ing Homer and Virgil at the table, was going to sit down himself, 
had not the latter whispered him, That whatever pretence he 
might otherwise have had, he forfeited his claim to it, by coming 
in as one of the historians. Lucan was so exasperated with the 
repulse, that he muttered something to himself, and was heard 
to say, That since he could not have a seat among them himself, 
he would bring in one, who alone had more merit than their 
whole assembly : upon which he went to the door, and brought in 
Oato of Utica. That great man approached the company with 

* And preceded. Omit "and," or, insert "was" before "preceded" 



No. 81.] THE TATLER. 41 

such an air, that a showed he contemned the honour wl ich ne laid 
a claim to. Observing the seat opposite to Caesar was vacant, he 
took possession of it ; and spoke two or three smart sentences 
upon the nature of precedency, which according to him, consisted 
not in place but in intrinsic merit ; to which he added, That the 
most virtuous man, wherever he was seated, was always at the 
upper end of the table. Socrates, who had a great spirit of rail- 
lery with his wisdom, could not forbear smiling at a virtue which 
took so little pains to make itself agreeable. Cicero took the 
occasion to make a long discourse in praise of Cato, which he 
uttered with much vehemence. Caesar answered with a great deal 
of seeming temper; but, as I stood at a great distance from them, I 
was not able to hear one word of what they said. b But I could 
not forbear taking notice, that in all the discourse which passed 
at the table, a word or a nod from Homer decided the controversy. 
After a short pause, Augustus appeared looking round him 
with a serene and affable countenance upon all the writers of his 
age, who strove among themselves which of them should show 
him the greatest marks of gratitude and respect. Yirgil rose 
from the table to meet him ; and though he c was an acceptable 
guest to all, he appeared more such to the learned, than the mil- 
itary worthies. The next man astonished the whole table with 
his appearance ; he was slow, solemn, and silent in his behaviour, 
and wore a raiment curiously wrought with hieroglyphics. As he 
came into the middle of the room, he threw back the skirt of it, 
and discovered a golden thigh. Socrates, at the sight of it, de- 
clared against keeping company with any who were not made of 
flesh and blood ; and therefore desired Diogenes the Laertian to 

a That. It should be "as." 

b Alluding to the two famous pieces, entitled, " Cato,'" and, " Anti-Cato? 
which have not come down to us. 

c Though he, i. e. Augustus. To avoid the ambiguity, read, " :ind though 
this great emperor wa&." 



42 THE TATLER. [No. 81 

lead him to the apartment allotted for fabulous huiroes, and worthies 
of dubious existence. At his going out, he told them, that they 
did not know whom they dismissed ; that he was now Pythago- 
ras, the first of philosophers, and that formerly he had been a 
very brave man at the siege of Troy. That may be very true, 
said Socrates ; but you forget that you have likewise been a very 
great harlot in your time. This exclusion made way for Archi- 
medes, who came forward with a scheme of mathematical figures 
in his hand ; among which, I observed a cone or cylinder. 

Seeing this table full, I desired my guide for variety to lead 
me to the fabulous apartment," the roof of which was painted 
with gorgons, chimeras, and centaurs, with many other emble- 
matical figures, which I wanted both time and skill to unriddle. 
The first table was almost full. At the upper end sat Hercu- 
les, leaning an arm upon his club. b On his right hand were 
Achilles and Ulysses, and between them iEneas. On his left 
were Hector, Theseus, and Jason. The lower end had Or- 
pheus, iEsop, Phalaris, and Musseus. The ushers seemed at a 
loss for a twelfth man, when methought, to my great joy and sur- 
prise, I heard some at the lower end of the table mention Isaac 
Bickerstaff; but those of the upper end received it with disdain, 
and said, if they must have a British worthy, they would have 
Bobin Hood. 

t: While I was transported with the honour that was done 
me, and burning with envy against my competitor, I was 
awakened by the noise of the cannon, which were then fired for 
the taking of Mons. 1 I should have been very much troubled at 

1 By the allies, and almost the only important consequence of the vic- 
tory of Malplaquet. — G. 

a Fabulous apartment, the roof of which, &c, read and point thus : ' Fab» 
ulous apartment. The roof of it was," &q. 

b To lean, rest, &c. are neutral, not transitive verbs. It should be 
"leaning with an arm upon his club," or rather, "leaning upon his club." 



Mo. 86.] THE TATLER. 43 

being thrown out of so pleasing a vision on any other occasion ; 
but thought it an agreeable change to have my thoughts diverted 
from the greatest among the dead and fabulous heroes to the 
most famous among the real and the living." a 

a Tliis last paragraph was written by Sir R. Steele. T 



No. 86. THURSDAY, OCTOBER 27, 1709. 

From my own Apartment, October 25. 
When I came home last night, my servant delivered me the 
following letter : 

Octob. 24. 
" Sir, — I have orders from Sir Harry Quickset, of Stafford- 
shire, Bart, to acquaint you, that his honour Sir Harry himself, 
Sir Giles Wheelbarrow, Knt., Thomas Rentfree, Esq. justice 
of the quorum, Andrew Windmill, Esq. and Mr. Nicholas Doubt 
of the Inner Temple, Sir Harry's grandson, will wait upon you 
at the hour of nine to-morrow morning, being Tuesday the 25th 
of October, upon business, which Sir Harry will impart to you 
by word of mouth. I thought it proper to acquaint you before- 
hand so many persons of quality came, that you might not be 
surprised therewith. Which concludes, though by many years 
absence since I saw you at Stafford, unknown, 

" Sir, your most humble servant, 

" John Thrifty. m 

I received this message with less surprise than I believe Mr. 
Thrifty imagined ; for I knew the good company too well to feel 
any palpitations at their approach : but I was in very great con- 



44 THE TATLER. [No. 86. 

cern how I should adjust the ceremonial^ and demean myself to 
all these great men, who perhaps had not seen any thing above 
themselves for these twenty years last past. I am sure that is 
the case of Sir Harry. Besides which, I was sensible that there 
was a great point in adjusting my behaviour to the simple 'Squire 
so as to give him satisfaction, and not disoblige the justice of 
the quorum. 

The hour of nine was come this morning, and I had no sooner 
set chairs (by the steward's letter) and fixed my tea equipage, 
but I heard a knock at my door, which was opened, but no one 
entered ; after which followed a long silence, which was broke 
at last by, ' Sir, I beg your pardon ; I think I know better : ' 

and another voice, * Nay, good Sir Giles .' I looked out from 

my window, and saw the good company all with their hats off, 
and arms spread, offering the door to each other. . After many 
offers, they entered with much solemnity, in the order Mr. 
Thrifty was so kind as to name them to me. But they are now 
got to my chamber door, and I saw my old friend Sir Harry 
enter. I met him with all the respect due so reverend a vegeta- 
ble ; for you are to know, that is my sense of a person who re- 
mains idle in the same place for half a century. I got him with 
great success into his chair by the fire, without throwing down 
any of my cups. The knight-bachelor told me, he had a great 
respect for my whole family, and would, with my leave, place 
himself next to Sir Harry, at whose right hand he had sat at 
every quarter-sessions this thirty years, unless he was sick. The 
steward in the rear whispered the young Templar, ; That is true 
to my knowledge.' I had the misfortune, as they stood cheek 
by jole, to desire the squire to sit down before the justice of the 
quorum, to the no small satisfaction of the former, and resent- 
ment of the latter : but I saw my error too late, and got them as 
soon as I could intc their seats. ' Well, (said I,) gentlemen, 



No. 86.] THETATLER. 45 

after I hare told you how glad I am of this great honour, I am to 
desire you to drink a dish of tea.' They answered, one and all, 
that ' They never drank tea in a morning.' ( Not in a morning !' 
said I, staring round me. Upon which the pert jackanapes Nick 
Doubt tipped me the wink, and put out his tongue at his grand- 
father. Here followed a profound silence, when the steward in 
his boots and whip proposed that we should adjourn to some pub- 
lic house, where every body might call for what they pleased, and 
enter upon the business. We all stood up in an instant, and Sir 
Harry filed off from the left very discreetly, countermarching be- 
hind the chairs towards the door : after him, Sir Giles in the same 
manner. The simple squire made a sudden start to follow ; but the 
justice of the quorum whipped between upon the stand of the stairs. 
/A maid going up with coals made us halt, and put us into such 
confusion, that we stood all in a heap, without any visible possi- 
bility of recovering our order : far the young jackanapes seemed 
to make a jest of this matter, and had so contrived, by pressing 
amongst us under pretence of making way, that his grandfather 
was got into the middle, and he knew nobody was of quality 
to stir a step, till Sir Harry moved first. We were fixed in 
this perplexity for some time, till we heard a very loud noise 
in the street ; and Sir Harry asking what it was, I, to make 
them move, said it was fire. Upon this, all run down as fast 
as they could, without order or ceremony, till we got into the 
street, where we drew up in very good order, and filed off down 
Sheer-Lane, the impertinent Templar driving us before him, as 
in a string, and pointing to his acquaintance who passed by. 

I must confess, I love to use people according to their own 
sense of good breeding, and therefore whipped in between the 
iustice and the simple 'squire. He could not properly take this 
ill ; but I overheard him whisper the steward, ' That he thought 
it hard that a commol conjurer should take place of him, though 



46 THE TATLER, [No. 86. 

an elder 'squire In this order we marched down Sheer-Lane, 
at the upper end of which I lodge. When we came to Temple 
Bar, Sir Harry and Sir Giles got over ; hut a run of coaches kept 
the rest of us on this side the street : however, we all at last 
landed, and drew up in very good order before Ben. Tooke's shop, 
who favoured our rallying with great humanity. From hence we 
proceeded again, till we came to Dick's Coffee-house, where I de- 
signed to carry them. Here we were at our old difficulty, and 
took up the street upon the same ceremony. . We proceeded 
through the entry, and were so necessarily kept in order by the 
situation, that we were now got into the coffee-house itself, where, 
as soon as we arrived, we repeated our civilities to each other; 
after which, we marched up to the high table, which has an ascent 
to it enclosed in the middle of the room. The whole house was 
alarmed at this entry, made up of persons of so much state and 
rusticity. Sir Harry called for a mug of ale, and Dyer's Letter. 
The boy brought the ale in an instant ; but said, they did not 
take in the Letter. ' No (says Sir Harry,) then take back; youi 
mug; we are like indeed to have good liquor at this house.' 
Here the Templar tipped me a second wink, and if I had not 
looked very grave upon him, I found he was disposed to be very 
familiar with me. In short, I observed after a long pause, that 
the gentlemen did not care to enter upon business till after their 
morning draught, for which reason I called for a bottle of mum , 
and finding that had no effect upon them, I ordered a second, and 
a third : after which, Sir Harry reached over to me, and told me 
in a low voice, that the place was too public for business ; but he 
would call upon me again to-morrow morning at my own lodgings, 

and bring some more friends with him. a 

a Sir. Richard Steele assisted in this paper. b T. 

b One sees this by the pertness of the manner in which many parts of 
it are composed. The scene described, is, however, pleasant enough: but 
why so much pains h<3re, and elsewhere, to throw contempt on rural 



No. 88.] THETATLER. 47 

No. 88. TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 1709. 

From my own Apartment, October 31. 
— -I was this morning awaked by a sudden shake of the 
house ; and as soon as I had got a little out of my consternation, 
I felt another, which was followed by two or three repetitions of 
the same convulsion. I got up as fast as possible, girt on my 
rapier, and snatched up my hat, when my landlady came up to 
me, and told me, that the gentlewoman of the next house begged 
me to step thither ; for that a lodger she had taken in was run 
mad, and she desired my advice ; as indeed every body in the 
whole lane does upon important occasions. I am not, like some 
artists, saucy, because I can be beneficial, but went immediately. 
Our neighbour told us, she had the day before let her second 
floor to a very genteel youngish man, who told her, he kept ex- 
traordinary good hours, and was generally at home most part of 
the morning and evening at study ; but that this morning he had 
for an hour together made this extravagant noise which we then 
heard. I went up stairs with my hand upon the hilt of my 
rapier, and approached this new lodger's door. I looked in at the 
key-hole, and there I saw a well-made man look with great atten 
tion on a book, and on a sudden, jump into the air so high, that 
his head almost touched the ceiling. He came down safe on his 
right foot, and again flew up, alighting on his left ; then looked 

Knights and 'Squires?' a, set of men better stationed on their own estates, 
than in courts and great cities; and more estimable, by far, with ail their 
rusticities, and (what offended Mr, Addison and his coadjutor more) with 
all their party-prejudices, at that time about them, than their finer sons, 
whose good-breeding hath eaten out every other virtue, and made them 
too polite to endure the country air, or the conversation of their neigh- 
bours and tenants. 

[Hurd's criticism is at fault — The part which Steele contributed, being 
the second part, on modesty, dated, "Will's coffee-house, Oct. 26, and omit 
tec by Ticlieh as no* belonging to Addison. — G-.] 



48 THETATLE.R. [ No - 88 - 

again at his book, and holding out his right leg, put it into such 
a quivering motion, that I thought he would have shaked it off. 
He used the left after the same manner ; when on a sudden, to 
my great surprise, he stooped himself incredibly low, and turned 
gently on his toes. After this circular motion, he continued bent 
in that humble posture for some time, looking on his book. After 
this, he recovered himself with a sudden spring, and flew round 
the room in all the violence and disorder imaginable, till he made 
a full pause for want of breath. In this interim my woman asked 
what I thought : I whispered, that I thought this learned person 
an enthusiast, who possibly had his first education in the peripa- 
tetic way, which was a sect of philosophers who always studied 
when walking. But observing him much out of breath, I 
thought it the best time to master him if he were disordered, and 
knocked at his door. I was surprised to find him open it, and 
say, with great civility and good mien, ' That he hoped he had not 
disturbed us.' I believed him in a lucid interval, and desired he 
would please to let me see his book. He did so, smiling. I 
could not make any thing of it, and therefore asked in what lan- 
guage it was writ. He said, ' It was one he studied with great 
application, but it was his profession to teach it, and could not 
communicate his knowledge without a consideration.' I answered, 
1 That I hoped he would hereafter keep his thoughts to himself, 
for his meditation this morning had cost me three coffee dishes, 
and a clean pipe.' He seemed concerned at that, and told me he 
was a dancing master, and had been reading a dance or two before 
he went out, which had been written by one who taught at an 
academy in France. 1 He observed me at a stand, and went on to 
Inform me, ' That now articulate motions, as well as sounds, were 

1 Thoinet Arbeau — a Parisian, inventor of Orchesography opxw-s 
ypatyoo — or the art of writing dances in characters ; V. Hawkins's History 
of Music, v. ii. p. 132-3, note citod by Nichols. — G. 



No. 901 THETATLER. 49 

expressed by proper characters ; and that there is nothing so 
common as to communicate a dance by a letter. 1 beseeched 
him hereafter to meditate in a ground-room, for that otherwise it 
would be impossible for an artist of any other kind to live near 
him ; and that I was sure, several of his thoughts this morning 
would have shaken my spectacles off my nose, had I been myself 
at study. 

I then took my leave of this virtuoso, and returned to my 
chamber, meditating on the various occupations of rational crea- 
tures 



No. 90. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 1709. 

Amoto quseramus seria ludo. — Hor. 

■ The joining of pleasure and pain together in such de- 
vices, seems to me the only pointed thought I ever read which is 
natural ; and it must have proceeded from its being the universal 
sense and experience of mankind, that they have all spoken of it 
in the same manner. I have in my own reading remarked an 
hundred and three epigrams, fifty odes, and ninety -one sentences, 
tending to this sole purpose. 

It is certain, there is no other passion which does produce 
such contrary effects in so great a degree : but this may be said 
for love, that if you strike it out of the soul, life would be in- 
sipid, and our being but half animated Human nature would 
sink into deadness and lethargy, if not quickened with some 
active principle ; and as for all others, whether ambition, envy, 
or avarice, which are apt to possess the mind in the absence of 
this passion, it must be allowed that they have greater pains, 
without the compensation of such exquisite pleasures as those 
vo^ iv. — 3 



50 THETATLER. [No. 90. 

we find in love. The great skill is to heighten the satisfactions, 
and deaden the sorrows of it, which has been the end of many 
of my labours, and shall continue to be so for the service of the 
world in general, and in particular of the fair sex, who are always 
tha best or the worst part of it. It is pity that a passion, which 
has in it a capacity of making life happy, should not be cultivat- 
ed to the utmost advantage. Reason, prudence, and good-nature, 
rightly applied, can thoroughly accomplish this great end, provid- 
ed they have always a real and constant love to work upon. But 
this subject I shall treat more at large in the history of my mar- 
ried sister ; and in the mean time shall conclude my reflection on 
the pains and pleasures which attend this passion with one of the 
finest allegories which I think I have ever read. It is invented 
by the divine Plato, and to show the opinion he himself had of it, 
^scribed by him to his admired Socrates, whom he represents as 
discoursing with his friends, and giving the history of Love iD 
the following manner : a 

' At the birth of Beauty (says he) there was a gieat feast 
iiade, and many guests invited : among the rest, was the god 
Plenty, who was the son of the goddess Prudence, and inherited 
man}- of his mother's virtues. After a full entertainment, he re- 
tired into the garden of Jupiter, which was hung with a great 
variety of ambrosial fruits, and seems to have been a very proper 
retreat for such a guest. In the mean time, an unhappy female, 
called Poverty, having heard of this great feast, repaired to it, in 
hopes of finding relief. The first place she lights upon was 
Jupiter's garden, which generally stands open to people of all 
conditions. Poverty enters, and by chance finds the god Plenty 
asleep in it. She was immediately fired with his charms, laid 
herself down by his side, and managed matters so well that she 
conceived a child by him. The world was very much in suspense 

y Platnnis opera Baeileae 1556 fol. p. 187. — Nichoi^, 



NO. 90.] THETATLER. 51 

upon the occasion, and could not imagine to themselves wha.1 
would be the nature of an infant that was to have its original 
from two such parents. At the last, the child appears ; and who 
should it be but Love. This infant grew up, and proved in ah 
his behaviour what he really was, a compound of opposite beings. 
As he is the son of Plenty, (who was the offspring of Prudence) 
he is subtle, intriguing, full of stratagems and devices ; as the 
son of Poverty, he is fawning, begging, serenading, delighting to 
lie at a threshold, or beneath a window. By the father he is au- 
dacious, full of hopes, conscious of merit, and therefore quick of 
resentment ; by the mother, he is doubtful, timorous, mean-spirit- 
ed, fearful of offending, and abject in submissions. In the same 
hour you may see him transported with raptures, talking of im- 
mortal pleasures, and appearing satisfied as a god ; and immedi 
ately after, as the mortal mother prevails in his composition, you 
behold him pining, languishing, despairing, dying.' 

I have been always wonderfully delighted with fables, alle- 
gories, and the like inventions, which the politest and the best in- 
structors of mankind have always made use of : they take off from 
the severity of instruction, and enforce it at the same time that 
they conceal it ; the supposing Love to be conceived immediately 
after the birth of Beauty, the parentage of Plenty, and the in- 
consistency of this passion with itself so naturally derived to it, 
are great ma-ier-strokes in this fable ; and if they fell into good 
hands, might fun ish out a more pleasing canto than any in 
Spencer. 



52 THETATLER. C^O. 9& 

No. 93. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 1709. 

" Dear Sir, — I bilieve this is the first letter that was ever 
Bent you from the middle region, where I am at this present 
writing. Not to keep you in suspense, it comes to you from the 
top of the highest mountain in Switzerland, where I am now 
shivering among the eternal frosts and snows. I can scarce for- 
bear dating it in December, though they call it the first of 
August at the bottom of the mountain. I assure you, I can 
hardly keep my ink from freezing in the middle of the dog-days. 
I am here entertained with the prettiest variety of snow-prospects 
that you can imagine, and have several pits of it before me that 
are very near as old as the mountain itself ; for in this country, 
it is as lasting as marble. I am now upon a spot of it, which 
they tell me fell about the reign of Charlemain, or King Pepin. 
The inhabitants of the country are as great curiosities as the 
country itself : they generally hire themselves out in their youth, 
and if they are musquet-proof till about fifty, they bring home 
the money they have got, and the limbs they have left, to pass 
the rest of their time among their native mountains. One of 
the gentlemen of the place, who is come off with the loss of an 
eye only, told me by way of boast, that there were now seven 
wooden legs in his family ; and that for these four generations, 
there had not been one in his line that carried a whole body with 
him to the grave. I believe you will think the style of this 
letter a little extraordinary; but the Rehearsal 1 will tell you, 
that * people in clouds must not be confined to speak sense ; ' and 
I hope, we that are above them, may claim the same privilege. 
Wherever I am, I shall always be, 

" Sir, your most obedient, " Most humble servant." 

1 A comedy by the Duke by Buckingham which made great noise at 
the time. — Gr. 



No. 93.] THE TATLER. 53 

From my own Apartment, November 11. 

I had several hints and advertisements from unknown hands, 
that some, who are enemies to my labours, design to demand the 
fashionable way of satisfaction for the disturbance my lucubra- 
tions have given them. I confess, as things now stand, I do not 
know how to deny such inviters, and am preparing myself ac 
cordingly : I have bought pumps and files, and am every morning 
practising in my chamber. My neighbour, the dancing-master 
has demanded of me, why I take this liberty, since I would not 
allow it him? 1 But I answered, his was an act of an indif- 
ferent nature, and mine of necessity. My late treatises against 
duels have so far disobliged the fraternity of the noble science 
of defence, that I can get none of them to show me so much as 
one pass. I am therefore obliged to learn my book, and have 
accordingly several volumes, wherein all the postures are exactly 
delineated. I must confess, I am shy of letting people see me 
at this exercise, because of my flannel waistcoat, and my specta- 
cles, which I am forced to fix on, the better to observe the pos- 
ture of the enemy. 

I have upon my chamber-walls, drawn at full length, the fig- 
ures of all sorts of men, from eight foot to three foot two inches. 
Within this height I take it, that all the fighting men of Great 
Britain are comprehended. But as I push, I make allowances 
for my being of a lank and spare body, and have chalked out in 
every figure my own dimensions ; for I scorn to rob any man of 
his life, or to take advantage of his breadth : therefore I press 
purely in a line down from his nose, and take no more of him to 
assault, than he has of me : for to speak impartially, if a lean 
fellow wounds a fat one in any part to the right or left, whether 
it be in carte or in tierce, beyond the dimensions of the said lean 
fellow's own breadth, I take it to be murder, and such a murder 

1 V. No. 88. 



54 THE TATLER. [^0. 93 

as is below a gentleman to commit. As I am spare, I am also 
very tall, and behave myself with relation to that advantage with 
the same punctilio ; and I am ready to stoop or stand, accord- 
ing to the stature of my adversary. I must confess, I have had 
great success this morning, and have hit every figure round the 
room in a mortal part, without receiving the least hurt, except a 
little scratch by falling on my face, in pushing at one at the lower 
end of my chamber ; but I recovered so quick, and jumped so 
nimbly into my guard, that if he had been alive, he could not 
have hurt me. It is confessed, I have writ against duels with 
some warmth ; but in all my discourses, I have not ever said, 
that I knew how a gentleman could avoid a duel if he were pro- 
voked to it ; and since that custom is now become a law, I know 
nothing but the legislative power, with new animadversions upon 
it, can put us in a capacity of denying challenges, though we are 
afterwards hanged for it. But no more of this at present. As 
things stand, I shall put up no more affronts : and I shall be so 
far from taking ill words, that I will not take ill looks. I there- 
fore warn all young hot fellows, not to look hereafter more terri- 
ble than their neighbours ; for if they stare at me with their hats 
cocked higher than other people, I won't bear it. Nay, I give 
warning to all people in general to look kindly at me; for I'll 
bear no frowns, even from ladies ; and if any woman pretends to 
look scornfully at me, I shall demand satisfaction of the next of 
kin of the masculine gender. 

Sir Richard Steel assisted in this paper.* T. 

a It may be so : but, T believe his share in it was very small. — [Here, as 
usual, Kurd's dislike of Steele leads him astray. Steele's part, which is 
given in full in the complete editions of the Tatler, is omitted in Tickel'a 
reprint of Addison's contributions to that paper.] — G-. 



No. 97.] THETATLER. 55 



No. 97. TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 1709. 

Illud ma.ume rarum genus est eoram, qui aut excellente ingeuii magnitudine, aut prse* 
clara eruditione atque doctrina, aut utraque re ornati, Spatiumde liberandi habuerant, quem 
ootissimum vitae cursum sequi vellent. — Tul. Offio. 

From my own Apartment, November 21. 

Having swept away prodigious multitudes in one of my late 
papers, and brought a great destruction upon my own species, I 
must endeavour* in this to raise fresh recruits, and, if possible, to 
supply the places of the unborn and the deceased. It is said of 
Xerxes, that when he stood upon a hill, and saw the whole coun- 
try round him covered with his army, he burst out in tears, to 
think a that not one of that multitude would be alive a hundred 
years after. For my part, when I take a survey of this populous 
city, I can scarce forbear weeping, to see how few of its inhab- 
itants are now living. It was with this thought that I drew up 
my last bill of mortality, and endeavoured to set out in it the 
great number of persons who have perished by a distemper (com- 
monly known by the name of idleness) which has long raged in 
the world, and destroys more in every great town, than the 
plague has done at Dantzic. 1 To repair the mischief it has 
done, and stock the world with a better race of mortals, I have 
more hopes of bringing to life those that are young than of re- 
viving those that are old. For which reason, I shall here set 
down that noble allegory which was written by an old author 
called Prodicus, but recommended and embellished by Socrates. 2 
It is the description of Virtue and Pleasure, making their court 
to Hercules under the appearances of two beautiful women. 

1 Allusion to the plague which in 1709 carried off over 40,000 person? 
there. — G-. 

2 V. Xenoph. Memorabilia, L. 11, c. 1. — G. 

a In tears to think. Better, — " into tears on reflect rig." 



56 THETATLER. L^"°- 97 

: When Hercules (says the divine moralist) was in that part 
of his youth in which it was natural for him to consider what 
course of life he ought to pursue, he one day retired into a des- 
ert, where the silence and solitude of the place very much fa- 
voured his meditations. As he was musing on his preseat con- 
dition, and very much perplexed in himself on the state of life 
he should chuse, he saw two women of a larger stature than or- 
dinary approaching towards him. One of them had a very noble 
air, and graceful deportment ; her beauty was natural and easy, 
her person clean and unspotted, her eyes cast towards the ground 
with an agreeable reserve, her motion and behaviour full of mod- 
esty, and her raiment as white as snow. The other had a great 
deal of health and floridness a in her countenance, which she had 
helped with an artificial white and red, and endeavoured to appear 
more graceful than ordinary in her mien, by a mixture of affec- 
tation in all her gestures. She had a wonderful confidence and 
assurance in her looks, and all the variety of colours in her dress 
that she thought were the most proper to show her complexion 
to an advantage. She cast her eyes upon herself, then turned 
them on those that were present, to see how they liked her, and 
often looked on the figure she made in her own shadow. Upon 
her nearer approach to Hercules, she stepped before the other 
lady, (who came forward with a regular composed carriage) and 
running up to him, accosted him after the following manner : 

' My dear Hercules, (says she) I find you are very much di- 
vided in your own thoughts upon the way of life you ought to 
chuse : be my friend, and follow me ; I'll lead you into the pos- 
session of pleasure, and out of the reach of pain, and remove 
you from all the noise and disquietude of business. The affairs 
of either war or peace shall have no power to disturb you Your 

a Health and flo-idnest. Better, perhaps, — a great deal of Jloril 
health. 



No 9*7.] T6ETATLER. 57 

whole employment shall be to make your life easy, and to enter 
tain every sense with its proper gratification. Sumptuous tables, 
beds of roses, clouds of perfumes, consorts of music, crowds of 
beauties, are all in a readiness to receive you. Come along with 
me into this region of delights, this world of pleasure, and bid 
farewell for ever to care, to pain, to business ' 

Hercules hearing the lady talk after this manner, desired to 
know her name ; to which she answered, ' My friends, and those 
who are well acquainted with me, call me Happiness ; but my en 
eniies, and those who would injure my reputation, have given mr 
the name of Pleasure.' 

By this time the other lady was come up, who addressed her- 
self to the young hero in a very different manner. 

1 Hercules (says she) I offer myself to you, because I know 
you are descended from the gods, and give proofs of that descent 
by your love to virtue, and application to the studies proper for 
your age. This makes me hope you will gain, both for yourself 
and me, an immortal reputation. But before I invite you into 
my society and friendship, I will be open and sincere with you, 
and must lay down this as an established truth, that there is 
nothing truly valuable which can be purchased without pains and 
labour. The gods have set a price upon every real and noble 
pleasure. If you would gain the favour of the deity, you must 
be at the pains of worshipping him ; if the friendship of good 
men, you must study to oblige them ; if you would be honoured 
by your country, you must take care to serve it. In short, if 
you would be eminent in war or peace, you must become master 
of all the qualifications that can make you so. These are the 
only terms and conditions upon which I can propose happiness.' 

The goddess of Pleasure here broke in upon her discourse •■ 
1 You see, (said she) Hercules, by her own confession, the way to 

VOL. IV. — 3* 



58 THE TATLER, L^O- 97. 

her pleasure is long and difficult, whereas that which I propose is 
short and easy.' 

* Alas (said the other lady, whose visage glowed with a pas- 
sion, made up of scorn and pity) What are the pleasures you 
propose ? to eat before you are hungry, drink before you are 
athirst, sleep before you are tired, to gratify appetites before 
they are raised, and raise such appetites as nature never planted. 
You never heard the most delicious music, which is the praise of 
one's self; nor saw the most beautiful object, which is the work 
of one's own hands. Your votaries pass away their youth in a 
dream of mistaken pleasures, while they are hoarding up anguish, 
torment, and remorse for old age. As for me, I am the friend 
of gods and of good men, an agreeable companion to the artisan, 
an household guardian to the fathers of families, a patron and 
protector of servants, and associate in all true and generous 
friendships. The banquets of my votaries are never costly, but 
always delicious ; for none eat or drink at them who are not in- 
vited by hunger and thirst. Their slumbers are sound, and their 
wakings cheerful. My young men have the pleasure of hearing 
themselves praised by those who are in years ; and those who are 
in years, of being honoured by those who are young. In a word, 
my followers are favoured by the gods, beloved by their acquaint- 
ance, esteemed by their country, and (after the close of their 
labours) honoured by posterity.' 

"We know, by the life of this honourable hero, to which of 
these two ladies he gave up his heart : and I believe, every one 
who reads this will do him the justice to approve his choice. 

I very much admire the speeches of these ladies, as contain- 
ing in them the chief arguments for a life of virtue, or a life of 
pleasure, that could enter into the thoughts of an heathen ; but 
am particularly pleased with the different figures he gives the 
two goddesses. Our modern authors have represented Pleasure 



[No. 100-* THETATLER. 59 

or Vice with an alluring face, but ending in snakes and monsters : 
here she appears in all the charms of beauty, though they are all 
false and borrowed : and by that means, composes a vision en 
tirely natural and pleasing. 

I have translated this allegory for the benefit of the youth of 
Great Britain ; and particularly of those who are still in the de- 
plorable state of non-existence, and whom I most earnestly en- 
treat to come into the world. Let my embrios show the least 
inclination to any single virtue, and I shall allow it to be a 
struggling towards birth. I do not expect of them, that, like the 
hero in the foregoing story, they should go about as soon as they 
are born, with a club in their hands, and a lion's skin on their 
shoulders, to root out monsters, and destroy tyrants ; but, as the 
finest author of all antiquity has said upon this very occasion, 
Though a man has not the abilities to distinguish himself in the 
most shining parts of a great character, he has certainly the 
capacity of being just, faithful, modest, and temperate. a 



No. 100. TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 1709. 

Jam redit et Virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna. Virg. 

Sheer-Lane, November 28. 
I was last week taking a solitary walk in the garden of Lin- 
coln's- Inn, (a favour that is indulged me by several of the benchers 
who are my intimate friends, and grown old with me in this neigh- 
bourhood) when, according to the nature of men in years, who 
have made but little progress in the advancement of their fortune 
or their fame, I was repining at the sudden rise of many persons 

!l This whole paper, on a subject which the author had m ch at heart, is 
#eU and accurately writtea 



60 THE TATLER. [^o. 100 

who are my juniors, and indeed at the unequal distribution of 
wealth, honour, and all other blessings of life. I was lost in 
this thought, when the night came upon me, and drew my mind 
into a far more agreeable contemplation. The heaven above me 
appeared in all its glories, and presented me with such an hem- 
isphere of stars as made the most agreeable prospect imaginable 
to one who delights in the study of nature. It happened to be a 
freezing night which had purified the whole body of air into such 
a bright transparent sether, as made every constellation visible ; 
and at the same time gave such a particular glowing to the stars, 
that I thought it the richest sky I had ever seen. I could not 
behold a scene so wonderfully adorned and lighted up, (if I may 
be allowed that expression) without suitable meditations on the 
author of such illustrious and amazing objects. For on these 
occasions, philosophy suggests motives to religion, and religion 
adds pleasures to philosophy. 

As soon as I had recovered niy usual temper and serenity of 
soul, I retired to my lodgings with the satisfaction of having pass 
ed away a few hours in the proper employments of a reasonable 
creature, and promising myself that my slumbers would be sweet 
I no sooner fell into them, but I dreamed a dream, or saw a vision, 
(for I know not which to call it) that seemed to rise out of my 
evening meditation, and had something in it so solemn and seri- 
ous, that I cannot forbear communicating it ; though I must con- 
fess, the wildness of imagination (which in a dream is always 
loose and irregular) discovers itself too much in several parts of it. 

Methought I saw the azure sky diversified with the same 
glorious luminaries which had entertained me a little before I 
fell asleep. I was looking very attentively on that sign in the 
heavens which is called by the name of the Balance, when on a 
sudden there appeared in it an extraordinary light, as if the sun 
should rise at midnight. By its increasing in breadth and lup 



No. 100.] THE TATIER. 61 

tre, I soon found that it approached towards the earth ; and at 
length could discern something like a Shadow hovering in the 
midst of a great Glory, which in a little time after I distinctly 
perceived to be the figure of a woman. I fancied at first it might 
have been the Angel or Intelligence that guided the constellation 
from which it descended ; but upon a nearer view, I saw about 
her all the emblems with which the G-oddess of Justice is usually 
described. Her countenance was unspeakably awful and majes- 
tic, but exquisitely beautiful to those whose eyes were strong 
enough to behold it; her smiles transported with rapture, her frowns 
terrified to despair. She held in her hand a mirror endowed 
with the same qualities as that which the painters put into the 
hand of Truth. 

There streamed from it a light, which distinguished itself 
from all the splendors that surrounded her, more than a flash of 
lightning shines in the midst of day-light. As she moved it h? 
her hand, it brightened the heavens, the air, or the earth. Whe? 
she had descended so low as to be seen and heard by mortals, tc 
make the pomp of her appearance more supportable, she threw 
darkness and clouds about her, that tempered the light into a 
thousand beautiful shades and colours, and multiplied that lus- 
tre, which was before too strong and dazzling, into a variety of 
milder glories. ■ 

In the mean time the world was in an alarm, and all the in- 
habitants of it gathered together upon a spacious plain ; so that 
I seemed to have all the species before my eyes. A voice was 
heard from the clouds, declaring the intention of this visit, which 
was to restore and appropriate to every one living what was his 
due. The fear and hope, joy and sorrow, which appeared in that 
great assembly after this solemn declaration, are not to be ex- 
pressed. The first edict was then pronounced, ' That all titles 
and claims to riches and estates, or to any part of them., should 



62 THE TATLER. L^O. 10G 

be immediately vested in the rightful owner.' Upon this, the 
inhabitants of the earth-held up the instruments of their tenure, 
whether in parchment, paper, wax, or any other form of convey- 
ance ; and as the goddess moved the mirror of truth which she 
held in her hand, so that the light which ftowed from it fell upon 
the multitude, they examined the several instruments, by the 
beams of it. The rays of this mirror had a particular quality of 
setting fire to all forgery and falsehood. The blaze of papers 
the melting of seals, and crackling of parchments, made a very 
odd scene. The fire very often ran through two or three lines 
only, and then stopped ; though I could not but observe, that the 
flame chiefly broke out among the interlineations and codicils. 
The light of the mirror, as it was turned up and down, pierced 
into all the dark corners and recesses of the universe, and by that 
means detected many writings and records which had been hid- 
den or buried by time, chance, or design. This occasioned a 
wonderful revolution among the people. At the same time, the 
spoils of extortion, fraud, and robbery, with all the fruits of 
bribery and corruption, were thrown together into a prodigious 
pile, that almost reached to the clouds, and was called the Mount 
of Restitution ; to which all injured persons were invited, to re- 
ceive what belonged to them. 

One might see crowds of people in tattered garments come 
up, ana change clothes with others that were dressed with lace 
and embroidery. Several who were plumbs, ! or very near it, 
became men of moderate fortunes ; and many others, who were 
overgrown in wealth and possessions, had no more left than what 
they usually spent. What moved my concern most, was, to see 
a certain street of the greatest credit in Europe from one end t: 
the other become bankrupt. 2 

1 i. e. worth a hundred thousand pounds. — G. 

2 Lombard-street ; but the prediction proved false. — Gr. 



£0. 100-1 THE TATLER. 63 

The next command was, for the whole body of mankind to 
separate themselves into their proper families : which was no 
sooner done, but an edict was issued out, requiring all children 
' to repair to their true and natural fathers.' This put a great 
part of the assembly in motion ; for as the mirror was moved over 
them, it inspired every one with such a natural instinct, as di- 
rected them to their real parents. It was a very melancholy 
spectacle to see the fathers of very large families become child- 
less, and bachelors undone by a charge of sons and daughters. 
STou might see a presumptive heir of a great estate ask blessing 
of his coachman, and a celebrated toast paying her duty to a 
valet de chambre. Many under vows of celibacy appeared sur- 
rounded with a numerous issue. This change of parentage would 
have caused great lamentation, but that the calamity was pretty 
common ; and that generally those who lost their children, had 
the satisfaction of seeing them put into the hands of their dearest 
friends. Men were no sooner settled in their right to their pos- 
sessions and their progeny, but there was a third order proclaimed, 
1 That all the posts of dignity and honour in the universe should 
be conferred on persons of the greatest merit, abilities, and per- 
fection.' The handsome, the strong, and the wealthy, immedi- 
ately pressed forward ; but not being able to bear the splendor 
of the mirror which played upon their faces, they immediately 
fell back among the crowd : but as the goddess tried the multi- 
tude by her glass, as the eagle does its young ones by the lustre 
of the sun, it was remarkable, that every one turned away his 
face from it, who had not distinguished himself either by virtue, 
knowledge, or capacity in business, either military or civil. This 
select assembly was drawn up in the centre of a prodigious mul- 
titude, which was diffused on all sides, and stood observing them 
as idle people used to gather about a regiment that are exercis- 
ing their arms. They were drawn up in three bodies : in the 



34 THE TATLER. [No. 100. 

first, were the men <)f virtue ; in the second, men of k mwledge 
and in the third, the men of business. It was impossible to look 
at the first column without a secret veneration, their aspects were 
so sweetened with humanity, raised with contemplation, embold- 
ened with resolution, and adorned with the most agreeable airs, 
which are those that proceed from secret habits of virtue. I 
could not but take notice, that there were many faces among them 
which were unknown, not only to the multitude, but even to 
several of their own body. 

In the second column, consisting of the men of knowledge, 
there had been great disputes before they fell into the ranks, 
which they did not do at last, without positive command of the 
goddess who presided over the assembly. She had so ordered it, 
that men of the greatest genius and strongest sense were placed 
at the head of the column : behind these were such as had formed 
their minds very much on the thoughts and writings of others. 
In the rear of the column, were men who had more wit than 
sense, or more learning than understanding. All living authors 
of any value were ranged in one of these classes; but I must con- 
fess, I was very much surprised to see a great body of editors, 
critics, commentators, and grammarians, meet with so very ill a 
reception. They had formed themselves into a body, and with a 
great deal of arrogance demanded the first station in the column 
of knowledge ; but the goddess, instead of complying with their 
request, clapped them all into liveries, and bid them know them- 
selves for no other but lacqueys of the learned. 

The third column were men of business, and consisting of 
persons in military and civil capacities. The former marched 
out from the rest, and placed themselves in the front, at which 
the other shook their heads at them, but did not think fit to dis- 
pute the post with them. I could not but make several obser- 
vations upon this last column of people ; but I have certain pri 



No. 101.] THE TATLEE. 65 

\ate reasons why I do not think fit to communicate them to the 
public. In order to fill up all the posts of honour, dignity, and 
profit, there was a draught made out of each column, of men who 
were masters of all three qualifications in some degree, and were 
preferred to stations of the first rank. The second draught was 
made out of such as were possessed of any two of the qualifica- 
tions, who were disposed of in stations of a second dignity. 
Those who were left, and were endowed only with one of them, 
had their suitable posts. When this was over, there remained 
many places of trust and profit unfilled, for which there were 
fresh draughts made out of the surrounding multitude, who had 
any appearance of these excellencies, or were recommended by 
those who possessed them in reality. 

All were surprised to see so many new faces in the most 
eminent dignities : and for my own part, I was very well pleased 
to see that all my friends either kept their present posts, or were 
advanced to higher. 

Having filled my paper with those particulars of mankind, I 
must reserve for another occasion the . sequel of it, which relates 
to the fair sex. a 



No. 101. THURSDAY, DECEMBER 1. 1709. 



-Postquam fregit subsellia versu 



Esurit intectam Paridi nisi vendit Agaven. — Jtrv. 

From my own Apartment, Nov. 30. 
The progress of my intended account of what happened when 
Justice visited mortals, is at present interrupted by the observa- 
tion and sense of an injustice against which there is no remedy, 

a This paper, and the sequel of the vision, in No. 102, are Avrifrten ir Mr 
Addison's best manner. 



THE TATLER. 



[No. 101 



even in a kingdom more happy in the care taken of the liberty 
and property of the subject, than any other nation upon earth. 
This iniquity is committed by a most impregnable set of mortals, 
men who are rogues within the law ; and in the very commission 
of what they are guilty of, professedly own, that they forbear no 
injury, but from the terror of being punished for it. These 
miscreants are a set of wretches we authors call pirates, who 
print any book, poem, or sermon, as soon as it appears in the 
world, in a smaller volume, and sell it (as all other thieves do 
stolen goods) at a cheaper rate. I was in my rage calling them 
rascals, plunderers, robbers, highwaymen But they acknow- 
ledge all that, and are pleased with those, as well as any other 
titles : nay, will print them themselves to turn the penny. 1 

I am extremely at a loss how to act against such open ene- 
mies, who have not shame enough to be touched, with our re- 
proaches, and are as well defended against what we can say, as 
what we can do. Railing, therefore, we must turn into com- 
plaint, which I cannot forbear making, when I consider that all 
the labours of my long life may be disappointed by the first man 
that pleases to rob me. I had flattered myself, that my stock of 
learning was worth 150/. per annum, which would very hand- 
somely maintain me and my little family, who are so happy or so 
wise as to want only necessaries. Before men had come up to 
this bare-faced impudence, it was an estate to have a competency 
of understanding. 

An ingenious droll, a who is since dead, (and indeed it is well 
for him he is so, for he must have starved had he lived to this 
day) used to give me an account of his good husbandry in the 

1 Occasioned by a pirated edition of The Lucubrations. — V. Nichols, ad 
loc. — G\ 

■ The account of this droll, certainly by Mr. Addison. The rest of the 
paper, except, perhaps, the two concluding paragraphs, might be Sir 
Richard's. 



Wo. 101.] THE TATLER. 67 

management of his learning. He was a general dealer, and had 
his amusements as well comical as serious. The merry rogue 
said, when he wanted a dinner, he writ a paragraph of table-tall^ 
and his bookseller upon sight paid the reckoning. He was a 
very good judge of what would please the people, and could 
aptly hit both the genius of his readers, and the season of the 
year, in his writings. His brain, which was his estate, had as 
regular and different produce as other men's land. From the 
beginning of November till the opening of the campaign, he 
writ pamphlets and letters to members of parliament, or friends 
in the country: but sometimes he would relieve his ordinary 
readers with a murder, and lived comfortably a week or two upon 
strange and lamentable accidents. A little before the armies 
took the field, his way was to open your attention with a prodigy ; 
and a monster well writ, was two guineas the lowest price. This 
prepared his readers for great and bloody news from Flanders in 
June and July. Poor Tom ! ] he is gone. But I observed, he 
always looked well after a battle, and was apparently fatter in a 
fighting year. Had this honest careless fellow lived till now, 
famine had stared him in the face, and interrupted his merri- 
ment ; as it must be a solid affliction to all those whose pen is 
their portion. 

As for my part, I do not speak wholly for my own sake in 
this point ; for palmistry and astrology will bring me in greater 
gains than these my papers ; so that I am only in the condition 
of a lawyer, who leaves the bar for chamber practice. However, 
I may be allowed to speak in the cause of learning itself, and 
lament, that a liberal education is the only one which a polite 
nation makes unprofitable. All mechanic artisans are allowed to 

1 Thomas Brown, celebrated for his humor, who died in 1704, and was 
buried in the cloister of Westminster Abbey. His works were printed ia 
1707, in 4 vols. 12mo.— G. 



68 THETATLER. [No. 101, 

reap the fruit of their invention and ingei uity without invasion; 
but he that has separated himself from the rest of mankind, and 
studied the wonders of the creation, the government of his pas- 
sions, and the revolutions of the world, and has an ambition to 
communicate the effect of half his life spent in such noble inqui- 
ries, has no property in what he is willing to produce, but is ex- 
posed to robbery and want, with this melancholy and just reflec- 
tion, that he is the only man who is not protected by his country, 
at the same time that he best deserves it. 

According to the ordinary rules of computation, the greater 
the adventure is, the greater ought to be the profit of those who 
succeed in it ; and by this measure, none have pretence of turn- 
ing their labours to greater advantage than persons brought up 
to letters. A learned education, passing through great schools 
and universities, is very expensive, and consumes a moderate for- 
tune, before it is gone through in its proper forms. The pur- 
chase of an handsome commission or employment, which would 
give a man a good figure in another kind of life, is to be made at 
a much cheaper rate. Now, if we consider this expensive voyage 
which is undertaken in the search of knowledge, and how few 
there are who take in any considerable merchandise, how less 
frequent it is to be able to turn what men have gained into profit * 
how hard is it, that the very small number who are distinguished 
with abilities to know how to vend their wares, and have the 
good fortune to bring them into port, should suffer being plun- 
dered by privateers under the very cannon that should protect 
them ! The most eminent and useful author of the age we live 
in, after having laid out a princely revenue in works of charity 
and beneficence, as became the greatness of his mind, -and the 
sanctity of his character, would have left the person in the world 
who was the dearest to him in a narrow condition, had not the 



No. 101.] THETATLER. 69 

sale of his immortal writings a brought her in a very considerable 
dowry ; though it was impossible for it to be equal to their value. 
Every one will know, that 1 here mean the works of the late 
Archbishop of Canterbury, the copy of which was sold for 
25,000/. 1 

I do not speak with relation to any party ; but it has happen- 
ed, and may often so happen, that men of great learning and 
virtue cannot qualify themselves for being employed in business, 
or receiving preferments. In this case, you cut them off from all 
support, if you take from them the benefit that may arise from 
their writings. For my own part, I have brought myself to con- 
sider things in so unprejudiced a manner, that I esteem more a 
man who can live by the products of his understanding, than one 
who does it by the favour of great men. 

The zeal of an author has transported me thus far, though I 
think myself as much concerned in the capacity of a reader. If 
this practice goes on, we must never expect to see again a beauti 
ful edition of a book in Great Britain. 

We have already seen the memoirs of Sir William Temple 
published in the same character and volume with the history of 
Tom Thumb, and the works of our greatest poets shrunk into 
penny books and garlands. For my own part, I expect to see my 
lucubrations printed on browner paper than they are at present ; 2 

1 Tillotson. His widow however received assistance frcm court. Addi 
eon was a great admirer of his style, which he considered a model of pure 
English.— G. 

2 The original folio was on a very brown paper, which a correspondent 
in No. 160, speaks of as 'The tobacco paper in which your own writings 
are usually printed, &c, &c. — G. 

a Immortal writings. It is to be hoped, that this epithet is right' y given 
to Archbishop Tillotson's works, for the credit of our taste, as well ae 
aiorals. 



70 THETATLER. [No. 102 

and, it the humour continues, must be forced to retrench my ex- 
pensive way of living, and not smoke above two pipes a day. 

Sir Richard Steele joined in this paper. T. 



No. 102. SATURDAY; DECEMBER 3, 1709. 

From my oivn Apartment, December 3. 

A CONTINUATION OF THE VISION. 

The male world were dismissed by the Groddess of Justice, 
and disappeared, when on a sudden the whole plain was covered 
with women. So charming a multitude filled my heart with un- 
speakable pleasure ; and as the celestial light of the mirror shone 
upon their faces, several of them seemed rather persons that de- 
scended in the train of the goddess, than such who were brought 
before her to their trial. The clack of tongues, and confusion of 
voices, in this new assembly, was so very great, that the goddess 
was forced to command silence several times, and with some 
severity, before she could make them attentive to her edicts. 
They were all sensible, that the most important affair among wo- 
mankind was then to be settled, which every one knows to be the 
point of place. This had raised innumerable disputes among 
them, and put the whole sex into a tumult. Every one produced 
her claim, and pleaded her pretensions. Birth, beauty, wit, or 
wealth, were words that rung in my ears from all parts of the 
plain. Some boasted of the merit of their husbands ; others of 
their own power in governing them. Some r leaded their unspot- 
ted virginity ; others their numerous issue. Some valued them- 
selves as they were the mothers, and others as they were th6 
daughters, of considerable persons. There was not a single ac 



No 102,] THE UTLER. 71 

coniplishment unmentioned, or unpractised. The whole congre- 
gation .was full of singing, dancing, tossing, ogling, squeaking, 
smiling, sighing, fanning, frowning, and all those irresistible arts 
which women put in practice to captivate the hearts of reasonable 
creatures. The goddess, to end this dispute, caused it to be pre 
claimed, ' That every one should take place according as she was 
more or less beautiful.' This declaration gave great satisfaction 
to the whole assembly, which immediately bridled up, and appear- 
ed in all its beauties. Such as believed themselves graceful in 
their motion, found an occasion of falling back, advancing for- 
ward, or making a false step, that they might show their persons 
in the most becoming air. Such as had fine necks and bosoms, 
were wonderfully curious to look over the heads of the multitude, 
and observe the most distant parts of the assembly. Several 
clapped their hands on their foreheads, as helping their sight to 
look upon the glories that surrounded the goddess, but in reality 
to show fine hands and arms. The ladies were yet better pleased 
when they heard, that in the decision of this great controversy, 
each of them should be her own judge, and take her place accord- 
ing to her own opinion of herself, when she consulted her looking 
glass. 

The goddess then let down the mirror of truth in a golden 
chain, which appeared larger in proportion as it descended and 
approached nearer to the eyes of the beholders. It was the par- 
ticular property of this looking glass to banish all false appear- 
ances, and show people what they are. The whole woman was 
represented, without regard to the usual external features, which 
were made entirely conformable to their real characters. In 
«hort, the most accomplished (taking in the whole circle of female 
perfections) were the most beautiful ; and the most defective, the 
most deformed. The goddess so varied the motion of the glass 



72 THE TATLEE. [No. 102, 

and placed it in so many different lights, that each had an oppor 
tunity of seeing herself in it. 

It is impossible to describe the rage, the pleasure, or aston 
ishrnent, that appeared in each face upon its representation in the 
mirror : multitudes started at their own form, and would have 
broke the glass if they could have reached it. Many saw theii 
blooming features wither as they looked upon them, and their 
self-admiration turned into a loathing and abhorrence. The lady 
who was thought so agreeable in her anger, and was so often 
celebrated for a woman of fire and spirit, was frighted at her own 
image, and fancied she saw a fury in the glass. The interested 
mistress beheld a harpy, and the subtle jilt a sphynx. 1 waa 
very, much troubled in my own heart, to see such a destruction of 
fine faces j but at the same time had the pleasure of seeing sev- 
eral improved, which I had before looked upon as the greatest 
master-pieces of nature. I observed, that some few were so 
humble as to be surprised at their own charms ; and that many a 
one, who had lived in the retirement and severity of a vestal, 
shined forth in all the graces and attractions of a syren. I was 
ravished at the sight of a particular image in the mirror, which 
I think the most beautiful object that my eyes ever beheld. 
There was something more than human in her countenance : her 
eyes were so full of light, that they seemed to beautify every 
thing they looked upon. Her face was enlivened with such a 
florid bloom, as did not so properly seem the mark of health, as 
of immortality. Her shape, her stature, and her mien, were 
such as distinguished her even there where the whole fair sex 
was assembled. 

I was impatient to see the lady represented by so divine an 
image, whom I found to be the person that stood at my right 
hand, and in the same point of view with myself. This was a 
little old woman, who in her prime had been about five fo->t high, 



[No. 102. THE TATLEE. 73 

though at present shrunk to about three quarters of that measure. 
Her natural aspect was puckered up with wrinkles, and her head 
covered with grey hairs. I had observed all along an innocent 
cheerfulness in her face, which was now heightened into rapture 
as she beheld herself in the glass. It was an odd circumstance 
in my dream (but I cannot forbear relating it) I conceived, so 
great an inclination towards her, that I had thoughts of discours- 
ing her upon the point of marriage, when on a sudden she was 
carried from me ; for the word was now given, that all who were 
pleased with their own images, should separate, and place them- 
selves at the head of their sex. 

This detachment was afterwards divided into three bodies, 
consisting of maids, wives, and widows ; the wives being placed 
in the middle, with the maids on the right, and widows on the 
left ; though it was with difficulty that these two last bodies were 
hindered from falling into the centre. This separation of those, 
who liked their real selves, not having lessened the number of 
the main body so considerably as it might have been wished, the 
goddess, after having drawn up her mirror, thought fit to make 
new distinctions among those who did not like the figure which 
they saw in it. She made several wholesome edicts, which are 
slipped out of my mind ; but there were two which dwelt upon 
mc, as being very extraordinary in their kind, and executed with 
great severity. Their design was, to make an example of two 
extremes in f he female world ; of those who are very severe on 
the conduct of others, and of those who are very regardless of 
their own. The first sentence, therefore, the goddess pronounced, 
was, ' That all females addicted to censoriousness and detraction, 
should lose the use of speech ;' a punishment which would be 
the most grievous to the offender, and (what should be the end of 
all punishments) effectual for rooting out the crime. Upon this 
edict, which was as soon executed as published, the noise of the 
vol. iv. — 4 



74 THE TATLER. [No. 102. 

assembly very considerably abated. It was a melancholy spec- 
tacle, to see so many who had the reputation of rigid virtue 
struck dumb. A lady who stood by me, and saw my concern, 
told me, she wondered how I could be concerned for such a pack 

of . I found, by the shaking of her head, she was going to 

give me their characters ; but by her saying no more, I perceived 
she had lost the command of her tongue. This calamity fell 
very heavy upon that part of women who are distinguished by 
the name of Prudes, a courtly word for female hypocrites, who 
have a short way to being virtuous, by showing that others are 
vicious. The second sentence was then pronounced against the 
loose part of the sex, ' That all should immediately be pregnant, 
who in any part of their lives had ran the hazard of it.' This 
produced a very goodly appearance, and revealed so many mis- 
conducts, that made those who were lately struck dumb, repine 
more than ever at their want of utterance, though at the same 
time (as afflictions seldom come single) many of the mutes were 
also seized with this new calamity. The ladies were now in suet 
a condition, that they would have wanted room, had not the plain 
been large enough to let them divide their ground, and extend 
their lines on all sides. It was a sensible affliction to me, to see 
such a multitude of fair ones either dumb or big-bellied : but I 
was something more at ease, when I found that they agreed upon 
several regulations to cover such misfortunes. Among others, 
that it should be an established maxim in all nations, That a wo- 
man's first child might come into the world within six months 
after her acquaintance with her husband ; and that grief might 
retard the birth of her last till fourteen months after his de- 
cease. 

This vision lasted till my usual hour of waking, which I did 
with some surprise, to find myself alone, after having been en 
"•wed almost a whole night in so prodigious a multitude. 1 



No. 103.] THE TATLER, 75 

could not but reflect with wonder, at the partiality and extrava- 
gance of my vision ; which, according to my thoughts, has not 
done justice to the sex. If virtue in men is more venerable, it 
is in women more lovely ; which Milton has very finely expressed 
in his Paradise Lost, where Adam, speaking of Eve, after having 
asserted his own pre-eminence, as being first in creation and in- 
ternal faculties, breaks out into the following rapture : 



-Yet when I approach 



Her loveliness, so absolute she seems, 
And in herself complete, so well to know 
Her own, that what she wills to do, or say, 
Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best. 
All higher knowledge in her presence falls 
Degraded. Wisdom, in discourse with her, 
Loses, discountenanced, and like folly shews. 
Authority and reason on her wait, 
As one intended first, not after made 
Occasionally: and to consummate all, 
Greatness of mind, and nobleness, their seat 
Build in her loveliest, and create an awe 
About her, as a guard angelic plac'd. 



No. 103. TUESDAY, DECEMBER 6, 1709. 



- Hae nugae seria ducunt 



In mala, derisum semel exceptumque sinistra.— Hob. 

From my own Apartment, December 5. 

There is nothing gives a man greater satisfaction than the sense 
of having dispatched a great deal of business, especially when it 
turns to the public emolument. I have much pleasure of this 
kind upon my spirits at present, occasioned by the fatigue of af 



76 THE TATLER. [No. 103 

fairs which I went through last Saturday. It is some time since 
I set apart that day for examining the pretensions of several who 
had applied to me for canes, perspective glasses, snuff-boxes, 
orange-flower-waters, and the like ornaments of life. In order to 
adjust this matter, I had before directed Charles Lillie, 1 of Beau 
fort-Buildings, to prepare a gieat bundle of blank licences in the 
following words : 

" You are hereby required to permit the bearer of this cane, 
to pass and repass through the streets and suburbs of London, 
or any place within ten miles of it, without lett or molestation ; 
provided that he does not walk with it under his arm, brandish 
it in the air, or hang it on a button : in which case it shall be 
forfeited ; and I hereby declare it forfeited to any one who shall 
think it safe to take it from him. 

" Isaac Bicker staffe." 

The same form, differing only in the provisos, will serve for 
a perspective, snuff-box, or perfumed handkerchief. I had placed 
myself in my elbow-chair at the upper end of my great parlour, 
having ordered Charles Lillie to take his place upon a joint-stool 
with a writing-desk before him. John Morphew 1 also took his 
station at the door ; I having, for his good and faithful services, 
appointed him my chamber-keeper upon court days. He let mc 
know, that there were a great number attending without. Upon 
which I ordered him to give notice, that I did not intend to sit 
upon snuff-boxes that day ; but that those who appeared for canes 
might enter. The first presented me with the following petition, 
which I ordered Mr. Lillie to read. 

1 First publisher of the 'Lucubrations' and confidential publisher of 
most of Swift's political pamphlets under the Tory ministry. — G 



So. 103.] THE TATLER. 77 

" To Isaac Bickerstaffe, Esq. Censor of Great Britain. 
" The humble Petition of Simon Trippit, 
" Sheweth, 

" That your petitioner having been bred up to a cane from 
his youth, it is now become as necessary to him as any other of 
his limbs. 

" That a great part of his behaviour depending upon it, he 
should be reduced to the utmost necessities if he should lose the 
use of it. 

" That the knocking of it upon his shoe, leaning one leg upon 
it, or whistling with it on his mouth, are such great reliefs to him 
in conversation, that he does not know how to be good company 
without it. 

" That he is at present engaged in an amour, and must de- 
spair of success, if it be taken from him. 

" Your petitioner therefore hopes, that (the premises tender- 
ly considered) your worship will not deprive him of so useful 
and so necessary a support. 

" And yonr petitioner shall ever," &c. 

Upon the hearing of his case, I was touched with some com- 
passion, and the more so, when upon observing him nearer I 
found he was a prig. I bid him produce his cane in court, which 
he had left at the door. He did so, and I finding it to be very 
curiously clouded, with a transparent amber head, and a blue 
ribbon to hang upon his wrist, I immediately ordered my clerk 
Lillie to lay it up, and deliver out to him a plain joint, headed 
with walnut ; and then, in order to wean him from it by degrees, 
permitted him to wear it three days in the week, and to abate 
proportionably till he found himself able tc go alone. 



78 THE TATLER, [No. 103. 

The second who appeared, came limping into the court : and 
setting forth in his petition many pretences for the use of a cane, 
I caused them to be examined one by one ; but finding him in 
different stories, and confronting him with several witnesses who 
had seen him walk upright, I ordered Mr. Lillie to take in his 
cane, and rejected his petition as frivolous. 

A third made his entry with great difficulty, leaning upon a 
slight stick, and in danger of falling every step he took. I saw 
the weakness of his hams ; and hearing that he had married a 
young wife about a fortnight before, I bid him leave his cane, 
and gave him a new pair of crutches, with which he went off in 
great vigour and alacrity. This gentleman was succeeded by 
another, who seemed very much pleased while his petition was 
reading, in which he had represented, that he was extremely af- 
flicted with the gout, and set his foot upon the ground with the 
caution and dignity which accompany that distemper. I sus- 
pected him for an impostor, and having ordered him to be 
searched, I committed him into the hands of Dr. Thomas Smith 
in King- Street 1 (my own corn-cutter) who attended in an outward 
room ; and wrought so speedy a cure upon him, that I thought 
fit to send him also away without his cane. 

While I was thus dispensing justice, I heard a noise in my 
outward room ; and inquiring what was the occasion of it, my 
door-keeper told me, that they had taken up one in the very fact 
as he was passing by my door. They immediately brought in a 
lively fresh-coloured young man, who made great resistance with 
hand and foot, but did not offer to make use of his cane, which 
hung upon his fifth button. Upon examination, T found him to 
be an Oxford scholar, who was just entered at the Temple- He 
at first disputed the jurisdiction of the court; but being driven 

1 Supposed to be the John Smith, corn-cutter and operator, addressed 
.n No. 45 of the Examiner. — G. 



No. 103.] THETATLER. 79 

out of his little law and logic, lie told me very pertly, that he 
looked upon such a perpendicular creature as man to make a 
very imperfect figure without a cane in his hand. ' It is well 
known (says he) we ought, according to the natural situation of 
our bodies, to walk upon our hands and feet ; and that the wis- 
dom of the ancients had described man to be an animal of four 
legs in the morning, two at noon, and three at night ; by which 
they intimated, that a cane might very properly become part of 
us in some period of life.' Upon which I asked him, 'whether 
he wore it at his breast to have it in readiness when that period 
should arrive ? ' My young lawyer immediately told me, he had 
a property in it, and a right to hang it where he pleased, and to 
make use of it as he thought fit, provided that he did not break 
the peace with it : and further said, that he never took it off his 
button, unless it were to lift it up at a coachman, hold it over 
the head of a drawer, point out the circumstances of a story, or 
for other services of the like nature, that are all within the laws 
of the land. I did not care for discouraging a young man, who, 
I saw, would come to good ; and because his heart was set upon 
his new purchase, I only ordered him to wear it about his neck, 
instead of hanging it upon his button, and so dismissed him. a 

There were several appeared in court, whose pretensions I 
found to be very good, and therefore- gave many their licences 
upon paying their fees ; as many others had their licences re- 
newed, who required more time for recovery of their lameness 
than I had before allowed them. 

Having dispatched this set of my petitioners, there came in 
a well-dressed man, with a glass-tube in one hand, and his pe- 

a Thus far, chiefly, or only, Mr. Addison. Yfhat follows, to the end, 
Sir Richard Steele's, 

[ One would think from the tone of this note that Hurd had written 
with the original before him ; though here, as elsewhere, he has nothing 
hut conjeclure to guide him.] — GL 



80 THE TATLER. [No. 10S 

tition in the other. Upon his entering the room, he threw back 
the right side of his wig, put forward his right leg, and advanc- 
ing the glass to his right eye, aimed it directly at me. In the 
mean while, to make my observations also, I put on my specta- 
cles ; in which posture we surveyed each other for some time. 
Upon the removal of our glasses, I desired him to read his pe- 
tition, which he did very promptly and easily ; though at the 
same time it set forth, that he could see nothing distinctly, and 
was within very few degrees of being utterly blind ; concluding 
with a prayer, that he might be permitted to strengthen and ex- 
tend his sight by a glass. In answer to this, I told him, he 
might sometimes extend it to his own destruction. ' As you are 
now (said I) you are out of the reach of beauty ; the shafts of 
the finest eyes lose their force before they can come at you ; you 
cannot distinguish a toast from an orange-wench ; you can see 
a whole circle of beauty without any interruption from an im- 
pertinent face to discompose you. In short, what are snares for 
others ' — My petitioner would hear no more, but told me very 
seriously, ' Mr. Bickerstaffe, you quite mistake your man ; it is 
the joy, the pleasure, the employment of my life, to frequent 
public assemblies, and gaze upon the fair.' In a word, I found 
his use of a glass was occasioned by no other infirmity but his 
vanity, and was not so much designed to make him see, as to 
make him be seen and distinguished by others. I therefore re- 
fused him a licence for a perspective, but allowed him a pair of 
spectacles, with full permission to use them in any public assem- 
bly as he should think fit. He was followed by so very few of 
this order of men, that I have reason to hope this sort of cheats 
are almost at an end. 

The orange-flower-men appeared next with petitions, perfumed 
so strongly with musk, that I was almost overcome with the 
scent ; and for my own sake, was obliged forthwith to licence 



No. 103.] THETATLER. 81 

their handkerchiefs, especially when I found they had sweetened 
them at Charles Lillie's, and that some of their persons would 
not be altogether inoffensive without them. John Morphew> 
whom I have made the general of my dead men, acquainted me, 
that the petitioners were all of that order, and could produce 
certificates to prove it if I required it. I was so well pleased 
with this way of their embalming themselves, that I commanded 
the abovesaid Morphew to give it in orders to his whole army, 
that every one who did not surrender himself up to be disposed 
of by the upholders, should use the same method to keep him 
self sweet during his present state of putrefaction. 

I finished my session with great content of mind, reflecting 
upon the good I had done ; for however slightly men may regard 
these particularities and little follies in dress and behaviour, 
they lead to greater evils. The bearing to be laughed at for such 
singularities, teaches us insensibly an impertinent fortitude, and 
enables us to bear public censure for things which more sub- 
stantially deserve it. By this means they open a gate to folly, 
and oftentimes render a man so ridiculous, as discredit his virtues 
and capacities, and unqualify them from doing any good in the 
world. Besides, the giving into uncommon habits of this nature, 
is a want of that humble deference which is due to mankind ; 
and (what is worst of all) the certain indication of some secret 
flaw in the mind of the person that commits them. When I was 
a young man, I remember a gentleman of great integrity and 
' worth was very remarkable for wearing a broad belt, and a hanger 
instead of a fashionable sword, though in all other points a very 
well-bred man. I suspected him at first sight to have something 
wrong in him, but was not able for a long while to discover any 
collateral proofs of it. I watched him narrowly for six and 
thirty years, when at last, to the surprise of every body but my 

vol. iv. — 4* 



82 THE TATLEE. [No. 108 

self, who had long expected to see the folly break out, he mar- 
ried his own cook-maid. 

Sir Richard Steele pined in this paper T. 



No. 108. SATURDAY DECEMBER 17, 1709. 

Pronaque cum spectant animalia caetera terram, 
Os homini Sublime dedit, cselumque tueri 
Jussit '■ Ovid Met. 

Sheer-Lane, Decembet 16. 

It is not to be imagined, how great an effect well-disposed 
lights, with proper forms and orders in assemblies, have upon 
some tempers. I am sure I feel it in so extraordinary a maimer, 
that I cannot in a day or two get out of my imagination any very- 
beautiful or disagreeable impression which I receive on such oc- 
casions. For this reason, I frequently look in at the play-house, 
in order to enlarge my thoughts, and warm my mind with some 
new ideas, that may be serviceable to me in my lucubrations. 

In this disposition I entered the theatre the other day, and 
placed myself in a corner of it, very convenient for seeing, with- 
out being myself observed. I found the audience hushed in a 
very deep attention, and did not question but some noble tragedy 
was just then in its crisis, or that an incident was to be unravelled 
which would determine the fate of an hero. While I was in this 
suspence, expecting every moment to see my friend Mr. Better ' 
ton 1 appear in all the majesty of distress, to my unspeakable 
amazement, there came up a monster with a face between his 
feet ; and as I was looking on, he raised himself on one leg in 

The Garrick of his age — See an interesting note to No. 71 of Nichols's 
ed. of the Tatler, and the account of his funeral in No. 167, by Steele. — Gr 






No 108.] THE TATLER. 8b 

such a perpendicular posture, that the other grew in a direct line 
above his head. It afterwards twisted itself into the motions 
and wreathings of several different animals, and after great vari- 
ety of shapes and transformations, went off the stage in the figure 
of an human creature. The admiration, the applause, the satis- 
faction of the audience, during this strange entertainment, is not 
to be expressed. I was very much out of countenance for my 
dear countrymen, and looked about with some apprehension for 
fear any foreigner should be present. Is it possible (thought I) 
that human nature can rejoice in its disgrace, and take pleasure 
in seeing its own figure turned to ridicule, and distorted into 
forms that raise horror and aversion ? There is something dis- 
ingenuous and immoral in the being able to bear such a sight. 
Men of elegant and noble minds, are shocked at seeing the char- 
acters of persons who deserve esteem for their virtue, knowledge, 
or services to their country, placed in wrong lights, and by mis- 
representation made the subject of buffoonery. Such a nice ab- 
horrence is not indeed to be found among the vulgar ; but, me- 
thinks it is wonderful, that these who have nothing but the out- 
ward figure to distinguish them as men, should delight in seeing 
it abused, vilified, and disgraced. 

I must confess, there is nothing that more pleases me, in all 
that I read in books, or see among mankind, than such passages 
as represent human nature in its proper dignity. As man is a 
creature made up of different extremes, he has something in him 
very great and very mean : a skilful artist may draw an excellent 
picture of him in either views. The finest authors of antiquity 
have taken him on the more advantageous side. They cultivate 
the natural grandeur of the soul, raise in her a generous am 
bition, feed her with hopes of immortality and perfection, and do 
all they can to widen the partition between the virtuous and the 
vicious, by making the difference betwixt them as great as be- 



84 THETATLER. [No. 108 

tween goda and brutes. In short, it is impossible to read a page 
in Plato, Tully, and a thousand other ancient moralists, without 
being a greater and a better man for it. On the contrary, I 
cmld never read any oi our modish French authors, or those of 
our own country, who are the imitators and admirers of that 
trifling nation, without being for some time out of humour with 
myself, and at every thing about me. Their business is, to de 
preciate human nature, and consider it under its worst appear 
ances. They give mean interpretations and base motives to the 
worthiest actions ; they resolve virtue and vice into constitution. 
in short, they endeavour to make no distinction between man 
and man, or between the species of men and that of brutes. As 
an instance of this kind of authors, among many others, let any 
one examine the celebrated Rochefoucault, who is the great 
philosopher for administering of consolation to the idle, the en- 
vious, and worthless part of mankind. 1 

I remember a young gentleman of moderate understanding, 
but great vivacity, who. by dipping into many authors of this 
nature, had got a little smattering of knowledge, just enough to 
make an atheist or a free-thinker, but not a philosopher, or a 
man of sense. With these accomplishments, he went to visit his 
father in the country, who was a plain, rough, honest man, and 
wise, though not learned. The son, ^ho took all opportunities 
to show his learning, began to establish a new religion in the 

1 Addison agrees in this with no less a personage than Ninon de l'En- 
clos, "II n' a pas tiop bonne opinion de la pauvre humanite. 11 ne croit 
Don plus aux vertus qu' aux revenants." Lettres de N. de 1' E., lib. 11. 
Swift, however, wrote in verses which Addison did not live to see: 
"Larochefoucauld his maxims drew 
Frotv. nature ; hence we find them true." 

Verses on the death of Dr. Swift. 
The reader who feels an interest in this subject, will read with plea- 
sure Stewart's opinion as expressed in his Dissertation on the pre gress of 
Metaphysical &c. Philosophy. Chap, ii, sec. 2. — G. 



No. 108.] THETATLER. 85 

family, and to enlarge the narrowness of their country nctions , 
in which he succeeded so well, that he had seduced the butler by 
his table-talk, and staggered his eldest sister. The old gentle- 
man began to be alarmed at the schisms that arose among his 
children, but did not yet believe his son's doctrine to be so per- 
nicious as it really was, 'till one day talking of his setting dog, 
the son said, ' he did not question but Tray was as immortal as 
anj one of the family ; ' and in the heat of the argument told his 
father, that for his own part, ' he expected to die like a dog.' 
Upon which, the old man starting up in a very great passion, 
fried out, f Then, sirrah, you shall live like one ; ' and taking his 
eane in his hand, cudgelled him out of his system. This had sc 
good an effect upon him, that he took up from that day, fell to 
reading good books, and is now a bencher in the Middle-Temple. 

I do not mention this cudgelling part of the story with a de- 
sign to engage the secular arm in matters of this nature ; but 
certainly, if it ever exerts itself in affairs of opinion and specula- 
tion, it ought to do it on such shallow and despicable pretenders 
to knowledge, who endeavour to give man dark and uncomfortable 
prospects of his being, and destroy those principles which are 
the support, happiness, and glory, of all public societies, as well 
as private persons 

I think it is one of Pythagoras's golden sayings, ' That a man 
should take care above all things to have a due respect for him- 
self : ' and it is certain, that this licentious sort of authors, who 
are for depreciating mankind, endeavoured to disappoint and un- 
do what the most refined spirits have been labouring to advance 
since the beginning of the world. The very design of dress, 
good-breeding, outward ornaments, and ceremony, were to lift 
up human nature, and set it off to an advantage. Architecture, 
painting, and statuary, were invented with the same design ; as 
indeed every art and science contributes to the embellishment of 



86 THE TATLEK. [No. 108. 

life, and to the wearing off or throwirg into shades the mean and 
low parts of our nature. Poetry carries on this great end more 
than all the rest, as may be seen in the following passage, taken 
out of Sir Francis Bacon's Advancement of Learning, which 
gives a truer and better account of this art than all the volumes 
that were ever written upon it. 

" Poetry, especially heroical, seems to be raised altogether 
from a noble foundation, which makes much for the dignity 
of man's nature. For seeing this sensible world is in dig- 
nity inferior to the soul of man. poesy seems to endow human 
nature with that which history denies ; and to give satisfaction 
to the mind, with at least the shadow of things, where the sub- 
stance cannot be had. For if the matter be thoroughly consider- 
ed, a strong argument may be drawn from poesy, that a more 
stately greatness of things, a more perfect order, and a more 
beautiful variety, delights the soul of man, than any way can be 
found in nature since the fall. Wherefore, seeing the acts and 
events which are the subjects of true history, are not of that am- 
plitude as to content the mind of man ; poesy is ready at hand 
to feign acts more heroical. Because true history reports the 
successes of business not proportionable to the merit of virtues 
and vices, poesy corrects it, and presents events and fortunes ac- 
cording to desert, and according to the law of Providence : because 
true history, through the frequent satiety and similitude of things, 
works a distaste and misprision in the mind of man, poesy cheer- 
eth and refresheth the soul, chanting things rare and various, 
and full of vicissitudes. So as poesy serveth and conferreth to 
delectation, magnanimity, and morality ; and therefore it may 
seem deservedly to have some participation of divineness, because 
it doth raise the mind, and exalt the spirit with high raptures 
by proportioning the shews of things to the desires of the mind ; 
and not submitting the mind to things, as reason and history do 






No. 110. J THE TATLER. 87 

And by these allurements and congruities, whereby it cherisheth 
the soul of man, joined also with consort of music, whereby it 
may more sweetly insinuate itself, it hath won such access, that 
it hath been in estimation even in rude times and barbarous na- 
tions, when other learning stood excluded." 

But there is nothing which favours and falls in with this nat- 
ural greatness and dignity of human nature so much as religion, 
which does not only promise the entire refinement of the mind, 
but the glorifying of the body, and the immortality of both. 



No. 110. THURSDAY, DECEIVERER 22, 1709. 

Quae lucis miseris tarn dira cupido ?— Vikg. 

Sheer-Lane, December 21. 
As soon as I had placed myself in my chair of judicature, I 
ordered my clerk Mr. Lillie l to read to the assembly (who were 
gathered together according to notice) a certain declaration, by 
way of charge, to open the purpose of my session, which tended 
only to this explanation, ' That as other courts were often called 
to demand the execution of persons dead in law, so this was held to 
give the last orders relating to those who are dead in reason.' The 
solicitor of the new company of upholders, near the Hay-Market, 
appeared in behalf of that useful society, and brought in an ac- 
cusation of a young woman, who herself stood at the bar before 
me. Mr. Lillie read her indictment, which was in substance, 
4 That whereas Mrs. Rebecca Pindust, of the parish of St. Mar- 
Sin in the Fields, had by the use of one instrument called a look- 

• A shopkeeper in the Strand, to whom the letters for the Tatler, Specta- 
tor, <fcc. were addressed. In 1725 he published, with Steele's consent, the 
letters which had not been used, in 2 vols. 8vo. — G. 



88 THE TATLER. [Mb. 110. 

ing-glass, and by the further use of certain attire, made either of 
cambric, muslin, or other linen wares, upon her head, attained to 
such an evil art and magical force in the motion of her eyes and 
turn of her countenance, that she the said Rebecca had put to 
death several young men of the said parish ; and that the said 
young men had acknowledged in certain papers, commonly called 
love-letters (which were produced in court, gilded on the edges, 
and sealed with a particular wax, with certain amorous and en- 
chanting words wrought upon the said seals) that they died for 
the said Rebecca : and whereas the said Rebecca persisted in 
the said evil practice ; this way of life the said society construed 
to be, according to former edicts, a state of death, and demanded 
an order for the interment of the said Rebecca.' 

I looked upon the maid with great humanity, and desired her 
to make answer to what was said against her. She said, ' it was 
indeed true, that she had practised all the arts and means she 
could to dispose of herself happily in marriage, but thought she did 
not come under the censure expressed in my writings for the 
same ; and humbly hoped I would not condemn her for the igno- 
rance of her accusers, who, according to their own words, had 
rather represented her killing' than dead.' She further alleged, 
i That the expressions mentioned in the papers written to her v 
were become mere words, and that she had been always ready to 
marry any of those who said they died for her ; but that they 
made their escape as soon as they found themselves pitied or be- 
lieved.' She ended her discourse, by desiring I would, for the 
future, settle the meaning of the words, ' I die,' in letters of love. 

Mrs. Pindust behaved herself with such an air of innocence, 
that she easily gained credit, and was acquitted. Upon which 
occasion, I gave it as a standing rule, ' That any persons, who 
in any letter, billet, or discourse, should tell a woman he died for 
her, should, if she pleased, be obliged to live with her, or be im 






No. 110.] THE TATLER. 89 

mediately interred upon such their own confession, without I ail 
or mainprize.' 

It happened, that the very next who was brought "before m* 
was one of her admirers, who was indicted upon that very head. 
A letter, which he acknowlekged to be his own hand, was read ; 
in which were the following words ; ' Cruel creature, I die for 
you.' It was observable, that he took snuff all the time his ac- 
cusation was reading. I asked him, ' How he came to use these 
words, if he were not a dead man ? ' He told me, c He was in 
love with a lady, and did not know any other way of telling her 
so; and that all his acquaintance took the same method.' Though 
I was moved with compassion towards him, by reason of the 
weakness of his parts, yet for example's sake, I was forced to an- 
swer, ' Your sentence shall be a warning to all the rest of your 
companions not to tell lies for want of wit.' Upon this, he be- 
gan to beat his snuff-box with a very saucy air ; and opening it 
again, l Faith, Isaac, (said he,) thou art an unaccountable old feb 
low. — Prythee, who gave thee power of life and death ? What 
a pox hast thou to do with ladies and lovers ? I suppose thou 
wouldst have a man be in company with his mistress, and say no- 
thing to her. Dost thou call breaking a jest, telling a lie ? Ha ! 
is that thy wisdom, old Stiffrump, ha ? ' a He was going on with 
this insipid common-place mirth, sometimes opening his box, 
sometimes shutting it, then viewing the picture on the lid, and 
then the workmanship of the hinge, when, in the midst of his elo- 
quence, I ordered his box to be taken from him; upon which he 
was immediately struck speechless, and carried off stone dead. 

The next who appeared, was a hale old fellow of sixty. He 
was brought in by his relations, who desired leave to bury him. 
Upon requiring a distinct account of the prisoner, a credible wit- 

• This pert rhetoric, certainly Steele's. [Then who wrote Tinsel's pav* 
in the Drummer? — Gr.] 



10 THE TATLER. £N"<>. HO 

ncss deposed, { That he always rose at ten of the clock, played 
with his cat till twelve, smoked tobacco till one, was at dinner 
till two, then took another pipe, played at backgammon till six, 
talked of one Madam Frances, an old mistress of his, till eight, 
repeated the same account at the tavern till ten, then returned 
home, took the other pipe, and then to bed.' I asked him, what 
he had to say for himself? ' As to what (said he) they mention 

concerning Madam Frances ' I did not care for hearing a 

Canterbury tale, and therefore thought myself seasonably inter- 
rupted by a young gentleman who appeared in the behalf of the 
old man, and prayed an arrest of judgment ; for that he the said 
young man has certain lands by his the said old man's life. 
Upon this, the solicitor of the upholders took an occasion to de- 
mand him also, and thereupon produced several evidences that 
witnessed "to his life and conversation. It appeared, that each 
of them divided their hours in matters of equal moment and 
importance to themselves and to the public. They rose at the 
same hour : while the old man was playing with his cat, the 
young *one was looking out of his window ; while the old man 
was smoking his pipe, the young man was rubbing his teeth ; 
while one was at dinner, the other was dressing ; while one was 
at backgammon, the other was at dinner ; while the old fellow 
was talking of Madam Frances, the young one was either at play, 
or toasting women whom he never conversed with. The only 
difference was, that the young man had never been good for anv 
thing ; the old man, a man of worth before he knew Madam Fran 
ces. Upon the whole, I ordered them to be both interred to 
gether, with inscriptions proper to their characters, signifying 
1 That the old man died in the year 1689, and was buried in the 
year 1709.' And over the young one it was said, ' That he de 
parted this world in the 25th year of his death.' 

The next class of criminals, were authors in prose and verse. 



[No. 110. THE TATLER. 91 

Those of them who had produced any still-born work, were im- 
mediately dismissed to their burial, and were followed by oth 
ers, who, notwithstanding some sprightly issue in their life-tim( 
had given proofs of their death, by some posthumous children, 
that bore no resemblance to their elder brethren. As for those 
who were the fathers of a mixed progeny, provided always they 
1 could prove the last to be a live child, they escaped with life, 
but not without loss of limbs ; for in this case, I was satisfied 
frith amputation of the parts which were mortified. 

These were followed by a great crowd of superannuated bench- 
ers of the inns of court, senior fellows of colleges, and defunct 
statesmen ; all whom I ordered to be decimated indifferently, al- 
lowing the rest a reprieve for one year, with a promise of a free 
pardon in case of resuscitation. 

There were still great multitudes to be examined ; but find- 
ing it very late, I adjourned the court ; not without the secret 
pleasure that I had done my duty, and furnished out an hand- 
some execution. « 

Going out of the court, I received a letter, informing me, 
1 That in pursuance of the edict of Justice in one of my late vis- 
ions, all those of the fair sex began to appear pregnant who had 
ran any hazard of it ; as was manifest by a particular swelling 
in the petticoats of several ladies in and about this great city.' 
I must confess I do not attribute the rising of this part of the 
dress to this occasion, yet must own, that I am very much dis- 
posed to be offended, with such a new and unaccountable fashion. 
I shall, however, pronounce nothing upon it, till I have examined 
all that can be said for and against it. And in the mean time, 
think fit to give this notice to the fair ladies who are now making 
up their winter suits, that they may abstain from all dresses of 
that kind ; till they shall find what judgment will be passed upon 
them ; for it would very much trouble me, that they should put 



92 THETATLER. [No. Ill, 

themselves to an unnecessary expence : and I ould not but think 
myself to blame, if I should hereafter forbid them the wearing 
garments, when they have laid out money upon them, without 
having given them any previous admonitions. 

Sir Richard Steele joined in this paper. T. a 



No. 111. SATURDAY, DECEMBER, 24, 1709.' 

Procul ! Procul este profani I — Virg. 

Sheer-Lane, December 23. 
The watchman, who does me particular honours, as being the 
chief man in the lane, gave so very great a thump at my door 
last night, that I awakened at the knock, and heard myself com- 
plimented with the usual salutation of ' Good morrow Mr. Bick- 
erstaffe; good morrow, my masters all.' The silence and dark- 
ness of the night disposed mo to be more than ordinarily serious ; 
and as my attention was not drawn out among exterior objects, 
by the avocations of sense, my thoughts naturally fell upon my- 
self. I was considering, amidst the stillness of the night, what 
was the proper employment of a thinking being ? What were 
the perfections it should propose to itself? And what the end 
it should aim at ? My mind is of such a particular cast, that 
the falling of a shower of rain, or the whistling of wind, at such 
a time, is apt to fill my thoughts with something awful and sol- 
emn. I was in this disposition, when our bellman began his 
midnight homily (which he has been repeating to us every wintei 
night for these twenty years) with the usual exordium. 

Oh ! mortal man, thou that art born in sin ! 

a The story of Mrs. Pindust may have been Steele'^. The rest, if not 
written, was touched by Mr. Addison. [Hurd, on his usual authority. — G.] 



N"o. lll.J THE 1ATLEE. 93 

Sentiments of this nature, which are in themselves just and rea- 
sonable, however debased by the circumstances that accompany 
them, do not fail to produce their natural effect in a mind that is 
not perverted and depraved by wrong notions of gallantry, polite- 
ness and ridicule. The temper which I now found myself in, as 
well as the time of the year, put me in mind of those lines in 
Shakespear, wherein, according to his agreeable wildness of im- 
agination, he has wrought a country tradition into a beautiful 
piece of poetry. In the tragedy of Hamlet, where the ghost 
vanishes upon the cock's crowing, he takes occasion to mention its 
crowing all hours of the night about Christmas time, and to insin- 
uate a kind of -religious veneration for that season. 

It faded on the crowing of the cock. 
Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes 
Wherein onr Saviours birth is celebrated, 
The bird of dawning singeth all night long ; 
And then, say they, no spirit dares walk abroad 
The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike, 
No fairy takes, no witch has power to charm ; 
So hallowed and so gracious is the time. 

This admirable author, as well as the best and greatest men ; 
all ages, and of all nations, seems to have had his mind thoroughly 
seasoned with religion, as is evident by many passages in his plays 
that would not be suffered by a modern audience ; and are, there- 
fore, certain instances, that the age he lived in had a much greater 
sense of virtue than the present. 

It is, indeed, a melancholy reflection* to consider, that the 
British nation, which is now at a greater height of glory for its 
councils and conquests than it ever was before, should distinguish 
itself by a certain loi seness of principles, and a falling off from 

a Reflection to consider, i. e. "to reflect." It should be, — " a melancholy 
thing to consider ;" or, " it fills one with melancholy to consider." 



94 THE TATLER. [No. 111. 

those schemes of thinking, which conduce to the happiness and 
perfection of human nature. This evil comes upon us from the 
the works of a few solemn blockheads, that meet together with 
the zeal and seriousness of apostles, to extirpate common sense, 
and propagate infidelity. These are the wretches, who, without 
any show of wit, learning, or reason, publish their crude concep- 
tions, with the ambition of appearing more wise than the rest of 
mankind, upon no other pretence, than that of dissenting from 
them. One gets by heart a catalogue of title pages and editions; 
and immediately to become conspicuous, declares that he is an 
unbeliever. Another knows how to write a receipt, or cut up a 
dog, and forthwith argues against the immortality of the soul. I 
have known many a little wit, in the ostentation of his parts, rally 
the truth of the scripture, who was not able to read a chapter in 
it. These poor wretches talk blasphemy for want of discourse, 
and are rather the objects of scorn or pity, than of our indigna- 
tion ; but the grave disputant, that reads, and writes, and spends 
all his time in convincing himself and the world that he is no 
better than a brute, ought to be whipped out of a government, as 
a blot to a civil society, and a defamer of mankind. 1 I love to 
consider an ,infidel, whether distinguished by the title of deist, 
atheist, or free-thinker, in three different lights ; in his solitudes, 
his afflictions, and his last moments. 

A wise man, that lives up to the principles of reason and vir- 
tue, if one considers him in his solitude, as taking in the system 
of the universe, observing the mutual dependance and harmony, 
by which the whole frame of it hangs together, beating down his 
passions, or swelling his thoughts with magnificent ideas of Prov 
idence, makes a nobler figure in the eye of an intelligent being 
t'lan the greatest conqueror amidst the pomps and solemnities of 
a triumph. On the contrary, there is not a more ridiculous ani 

Toland is said to be the person alluded to in this severe passage. — G. 



No 111 ] THE TATLER. 95 

inal than an atheist in his retirement. His mind is incapable of 
rapture or elevation : he can only consider himself as an insigni- 
ficant figure in a landscape, and wandering up and down in a 
field or a meadow, under the same terms as the meanest animals 
about him, and as subject to as total a mortality as they, with 
this aggravation, that he is the only one amongst them who lies 
under the apprehension of it. 

In distresses, he must be of all creatures the most helpless 
and forlorn; he feels the whole pressure of a present calamity, 
without being relieved by the memory of any thing that is passed, 
or the prospect of any thing that is to come. Annihilation is 
the greatest blessing that he proposes to himself, and an halter 
or a pistol the only refuge he can fly to. But if you would be- 
nold one of these gloomy miscreants in his poorest figure you 
must consider him under the terrors, or at the approach, of death. 

About thirty years ago I was a shipboard with one of these 
vermin, when there arose a brisk gale, which could frighten no- 
body but himself. Upon the rolling of the ship he fell upon his 
knees, and confessed to the chaplain, that he had been a vile athe- 
ist, and had denied a Supreme Being ever since he came to his 
estate. The good man was astonished, and a report immediately 
ran through the ship, that there was an atheist upon the upper 
deck. Several of the common seamen, who had never heard the 
word before, thought it had been some strange fish ; but they 
were more surprised when they saw it was a man, and heard out 
of his own mouth, ' That he never believed till that day that there 
was a God.' As he lay in the agonies of confession, one of the 
honest tars whispered to the boatswain, ' That it would be a good 
deed to heave him overboard.' But we were now within sight of 
port, when of a sudden the wind fell, and the penitent relapsed, 
begging all of us that were present, as we were gentlemen not 
to say any thing of what had passed. 



96 THETATLER. [^0. 111. 

He a had not been ashore above two days, when one of the 
company began to rally him upon his devotion on shipboard, 
which the other denied in so high terms, that it produced the lie 
on both sides, and ended in a duel. The atheist was run through 
the body, and after some loss of blood, became as good a Chris- 
tian as he was at sea, till he found that his wound was not mortal. 
He is at present one of the free-thinkers of the age, and now 
writing a pamphlet against several received opinions concerning 
the existence of fairies. b 

As I have taken upon me to censure the faults of the age and 
country which I live in, I should have thought myself inexcusa- 
ble to have passed over this crying one, which is the subject of 
my present discourse. I shall, therefore, from time to time, give 
my countrymen particular cautions against this distemper of the 
mind, that is almost become fashionable, and by that means more 
likely to spread. I have somewhere either read or heard a very 
memorable sentence, ' That a man would be a most insupportable 
monster, should he have the faults that are incident to his years, 
constitution, profession, family, religion, age and country ; and 
yet every man is in danger of them all. For this reason, as I am 
an old man, I take particular care to avoid being covetous, and 
telling long stories : as I am choleric, I forbear not only swearing, 
but all interjections of fretting, as Pugh ! Pish ! and the like. 
As I am a layman, I resolve not to conceive an aversion for a 
wise and good man, because his coat is of a different colour from 
mine. As I am descended of the ancient family of the Bicker- 
etaffes, I never call a man of merit an upstart. As a protestant, 

* The following improvement on the story of the atheist, certainly by Mr. 
Addison. 

b The existence of fairies. A fine stroke of satire, to insinuate, that the 
efforts of our most applauded free-thinkers are, generally, as harmless as their 
intentions are malicious ; for that they only bend their force against some 
phantom of religion as priestcraft, tJic intolerance of the clergy, c&c, and thee 
plume themselves on the conceit that they have been combating Christianity, 



No. 114.] THE TATLER. 97 

I do not suffer my zeal so far to transport me, as to name the 
Pope and the Devil together. As I am fallen into this degene- 
rate age, I guard myself particularly against the folly I have been 
now speaking of. And as I am an Englishman, I am very cau- 
tious not to hate a stranger, or despise a poor Palatine. 

Sir Richard Steele assisted in this paper. T. 



No. 114. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 31, 1709. 

tit In vita, sic in studiis, pulcherrimum et humanissimum existimo, severitatem comita 
temque miscere, ne ilia in tristitiam, haec in petulan tiara procedat. — Plin. Epist. 

Sheer-Lane, December 30. 
I was walking about my chamber this morning in a very gay 
humour, when I saw a coach stop at my door, and a youth about 
fifteen alighting out of it, who I perceived to be the eldest son of 
my bosom friend, that I gave some account of in my paper of 
the 1 7th of the last month. I felt a sensible pleasure rising in 
me at the sight of him, my acquaintance having begun with his 
father when he was just such a stripling, and about that very age. 
"When he came up to me, he took me by the hand, and burst into 
tears. I was extremely moved, and immediately said, ' Child, 

how does your father do ? ' He began to reply, ' My mother ' 

but could not go on for weeping. I went down with him into 
the coach, and gathered out of him, that his mother was then 
dying, and that while the holy man was doing the last offices to 
her, he had taken that time to come and call me to his father, 
* Who (he said) would certainly break his heart, if I did not go 
and comfort him.' The child's discretion in coming to me of his 
own head and the tenderness he showed for his parents, would 
have quite overpowered me, had I not resolved to fortify myself 
vol. iv. — 5 



98 THE TATLEE. [No. 114 

for tlie seasonable performances of those duties which I owed to 
my friend. As we were going, I could not but reflect upon the 
character of that excellent woman, and the greatness of his grief 
for the loss of one who has ever been the support to him under 
all other afflictions. ' How (thought I) will he be able to bear 
the hour of her death, that could not, when I was lately with him, 
speak of a sickness, which was then past, without sorrow.' We 
were now got pretty far into Westminster, and arrived at my 
friend's house. At the door of it I met Favonius, 1 not without 
a secret satisfaction to find he had been there. I had formerly 
conversed with him at his house ; and as he abounds with that 
sort of virtue and knowledge which makes religion beautiful, and 
never leads the conversation into the violence and rage of party 
disputes, I listened to him with great pleasure. Our discourse 
chanced to be on the subject of Death, which he treated with such 
a strength of reason, and greatness of soul, that instead of being 
terrible, it appeared to a mind rightly cultivated, altogether to be 
contemned, or rather to be desired. As I met him at the door, I 
saw in his face a certain glowing of grief and humanity, height- 
ened with an air of fortitude and resolution, which as I afterwards 
found, had such an irresistible force, as to suspend the pains of 
the dying, and the lamentation of the nearest friends who at- 
tended her. I went up directly to the room where she lay, and 
was met at the entrance by my friend, who, notwithstanding his 
thoughts had been composed a little before, at the sight of me, 
turned away his face and wept. The little family of children 
renewed the expressions of their sorrow according to their several 
ages and degrees of understanding The eldest daughter was in 
tears, busied in attendance upon her mother ; others were kneel- 
ing about the bed-side : and what troubled me most was, to see a 

1 Dr. Sraalridge, at that time minister of the new chapel in Tothill 
Field* — G 



No. 111.] THE TATLER. 99 

little boy, who was too young to know the reason, weeping only 
because his sisters did. The only one in the room who seemed 
resigned and comforted, was the dying person. At my approach 
to the bed-side, she told me, with a low broken voice, ' This is 

kindly done Take care of your friend Do not go from 

him.' She had before taken leave of her husband and children, 
in a manner proper for so solemn a parting, and with a graceful- 
ness peculiar to a woman of her character. My heart was torn 
to pieces to see the husband on one side suppressing and keeping 
down the swellings of his grief, for fear of disturbing her in her 
last moments ; and the wife, even at that time, concealing the 
pains she endured, for fear of increasing his affliction. She kept 
her eyes upon him for some moments after she grew speechless, 
and soon after closed them for ever. In the moment of her de- 
parture, my friend (who had thus far commanded himself) gave a 
deep groan, and fell into a swoon by her bed-side. The distrac- 
tion of the children, who thought they saw both their parents 
expiring together, and now lying dead before them, would have 
melted the hardest heart ; but they soon perceived their father re- 
cover, whom I helped to remove into another room, with a resolu- 
tion to accompany him till the first pangs of his affliction were 
abated. I knew consolation would now be impertinent; and 
therefore contented myself to sit by him, and condole with him 
in silence. For I shall here use the method of an ancient author, 
who, in one of his epistles, relating the virtues and death of Mac- 
rinus's wife, expresses himself thus : ' I shall suspend my advice 
to this best of friends, till he is made capable of receiving it by 
those three great remedies, (necessitas ipsa, dies longa, ct satietas 
doloris), the necessity of submission, length of time, and satiety 
of grief." 

In the mean time, I cannot but consider, with much commis- 

1 Pliny. 



100 THE TATLER. [No. Ill 

eration, the melancholy state of one who has had such a part of 
himself torn from him, and which he misses in every circum* 
stance of life. His condition is like that of one who has lately 
lost his right arm, and is every moment offering to help himself 
with it. He does not appear to himself the same person in his 
house, at his table, in company, or in retirement ; and loses the 
relish of all the pleasures and diversions that were before enter- 
taining to him by her participation of them. The most agreea- 
ble objects recal the sorrow for her with whom he used to enjoy 
them. This additional satisfaction, from the taste of pleasures 
in the society of one we love, is admirably described in Milton, 
who represents Eve, though in Paradise itself, no further pleased 
with the beautiful objects around her, than as she sees them in 
company with Adam, in that passage so inexpressibly charming. 

With thee conversing, I forget all time, 
All seasons, and their change ; all please alike. 
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet 
With charm of earliest birds ; pleasant the sun, 
When first on this delightful land he spreads 
His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, 
Glist'ring with dew ; fragrant the fertile earth 
After soft showers ; and sweet the coming on 
Of grateful evening mild ; the silent night, 
With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon, 
And these the gems of heaven her starry train. 
But neither breath of morn when she ascends 
With charm of earliest birds, nor rising sun 
In this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower, 
Glist'ring with dew, nor fragrance after showers 
Nor grateful evening mild, nor silent night, 
With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon, 
Or glittering star-light, without Thee is sweet. 

The variety of images in this passage is infinitely pleasing 
and the recapitulation of each particulai image, with a little va- 
rying of the expression, makes one of the finest turns of words 



Wo. 116.] THE TATLER. 101 

that I have ever seen : which I rather mention, because Mr. 
Dryden has said, in his preface to Juvenal, ' That he could meet 
with no turn of words in Milton." 

It may further be observed, that though the sweetness of 
these verses has something in it of a pastoral, yet it excels the 
ordinary kind, as much as the scene of it is above an ordinary 
field or meadow. I might here, since I am accidentally led into 
this subject, show several passages in Milton that have as excel- 
lent turns of this nature, as any of our English poets whatsoever ; 
but shall only mention that which follows, in which he describes 
the fallen angels engaged in the intricate disputes of predestina- 
tion, free-will, and fore-knowledge ; and to humour the perplex- 
ity, makes a kind of labyrinth in the very words that describe it. 

Others apart sat on a hill retir'd, 
In thoughts more elevate, and reason'd high 
Of Providence, fore-knowledge, will, and fate, 
Fix'd fate, free-will, fore-knowledge absolute, 
And found no end in wand'ring mazes lost. 

Sir Richard Steele assisted in this paper. T. a 



No. 116. THURSDAY, JANUARY 5 1709. 

Pars minima est ipsa puellasui.— Ovid. 

Sheer-Lane, January 4. 

The court being prepared for proceeding on the cause of the 

petticoat, I gave orders to bring in a criminal who was taken up 

as she went out of the puppet-show about three nights ago, and 

was now standing in the street with a great concourse of people 

* The dying scene in this paper, Sir Richard SteeVs. 



02 THE UTLER. [No. 116 

about her. Word was brought me, that she had endeavoured 
twice or thrice to come in, but could not do it by reason of her 
petticoat, which was too large for the entrance of my house, 
though I had ordered both the folding-doors to be thrown open 
for its reception. Upon this, I desired the jury of matrons, who 
stood at my right hand, to inform themselves of her condition, 
and know whether there were any private reasons why she might 
not make her appearance separate from her petticoat. This was 
managed with great discretion, and had such an effect, that upon 
the return of the verdict from the bench of matrons, I issued 
out an order forthwith, that the criminal should be stripped of 
her encumbrances, till she became little enough to enter my 
house. I had before given directions for an engine of several 
legs, that could contract or open itself like the top of an umbrella, 
in order to place the petticoat upon it, by which means I might 
take a leisurely survey of it, as it should appear in its proper 
dimensions. This was all done accordingly ; and forthwith, upon 
the closing of the engine, the petticoat was brought into court. 
I then directed the machine to be set upon the table, and dilated 
in such a manner, as to show the garment in its utmost circumfe- 
rence ; but my great hall was too narrow for the experiment ; for 
before it was half unfolded, it described so immoderate a circle, 
that the lower part of it brushed upon my face as I sat in my 
chair of judicature. I then inquired for the person that belonged 
to the petticoat; and, to • my great surprise, was directed to a 
very beautiful young damsel, with so pretty a face and shape, 
that I bid her come out of the crowd, and seated her upon a 
little crock at my left hand. " My pretty maid (said I) do you 
own yourself to have been the inhabitant of the garment before 
as ? " The girl I found had good sense, and told me with a 
smile, ' That notwithstanding it was her own petticoat, she should 
be very glad to see an example made of it ; and that she wore it 






? No. 116. THE TATLER. 103 

for no other reason, but that she had a mind to look as big and 
burly as other persons of her quality ; that she had kept out of 
it as long as she could, and till she began to appear little in the 
eyes of all her acquaintance ; that if she laid it aside, people 
would think she was not made like other women.' I always give 
great allowances to the fair sex upon account of the fashion, and 
therefore was not displeased with the defence of the pretty crimi- 
nal. I then ordered the vest which stood before us to be drawn 
up by a pulley to the top of my great hall, and afterwards to be 
spread open by the engine it was placed upon, in such a manner, 
that it formed a very splendid and ample canopy over our heads, 
and covered the whole court of judicature with a kind of silken 
rotunda, in its form not unlike the cupola of St. Paul's. I en- 
tered upon the whole cause with great satisfaction, as I sat under 
the shadow of it. 

The counsel for the petticoat was now called in, and ordered 
to produce what they had to say against the popular cry which 
was raised against it. They answered the objections with great 
strength and solidity of argument, and expatiated in very florid 
harangues, which they did not fail to set off and furbelow (if I 
may be allowed the metaphor) with many periodical sentences and 
turns of oratory. The chief arguments for their client were 
taken, first, from the great benefit that might arise to our woollen 
manufactory from this invention, which was calculated as fol- 
lows : the common petticoat has not above four yards in the 
circumference; whereas this over our heads had more in the 
semi-diameter : so that by allowing it twenty-four yards in the 
circumference, the five millions of woollen petticoats, which ac- 
cording to Sir William Petty) supposing what ought to be sup- 
posed in a well-governed state, that all petticoats are made of 
that stuff,) would amount to thirty millions of those of the an- 
cient mode. A prodigious improvement of the woollen trade 



1 04 THETATLER. [No 6 

and what could not fail to sink the power of France iD a jfew 
years. 

To introduce the second argument, they begged leave to read 
a petition of the rope-makers, wherein it was represented, that 
the demand for cords, and the price of them, were much risen 
since this fashion came up. At this, all the company who were 
present lifted up their eyes inti the vault; and I must confess, 
we did discover many traces of cordage which were interwoven in 
the stiffening of the drapery. 

A third argument was founded upon a petition of the Green 
land trade, which a likewise represented the great consumption 
of whalebone which would be occasioned by the present fashion 
and the benefit which would thereby accrue to that branch of the 
British trade. 

To conclude, they gently touched upon the weight and un- 
weildiness of the garment, which they insinuated might be of 
great use to preserve the honour of families. 

These arguments would have wrought very much upon me, 
(as I then told the company in a long and elaborate discourse), 
had I not considered the great and additional expence which 
such fashions would bring upon fathers and husbands ; and there- 
fore by no means to be thought of till some years after a peace. 
I further urged, that it would be a prejudice to the ladies them- 
selves, who could never expect to have any money in the pocket, 
if they laid out so much on the petticoat. To this I added, the 
great temptation it might give to virgins, of acting in security 
like married women, and by that means give a check to matri 
mony, an institution always encouraged by wise societies. 

At the same time, in answer to the several petitions produced 

on that side, I shewed one subscribed by the women of several 

persons of quality, humbly setting forth, that since the in trod uo 

a Trade which. Read and point thus : — trade. It — 



fio. 116.] THE TATLEE, 105 

tion of this mode, their respective ladies had (instead of bestow- 
ing on them their cast gowns) cut them into shreds, and mixed 
them with the cordage and buckram, to complete the stiffening 
of their under-petticoats For which, and sundry other reasons, 
. I pronounced the petticoat a forfeiture : but to show that I did 
not make that judgment for the sake of filthy lucre, T ordered it 
to be folded up, and sent it as a present to a widow gentlewoman, 
who has five daughters, desiring she would make each of them a 
petticoat out of it, and send me back the remainder, which I de 
sign to cut into stomachers, caps, facings of my^aistcoat sleeves, 
and other garnitures suitable to my age and quality. 

I would not be understood, that (while I discard this mon- 
strous invention) I am an enemy to the proper ornaments of the 
fair sex. On the contrary, as the hand of nature has poured on 
them such a profusion a of charms and graces, and sent them into 
the world more amiable and finished than the rest of her works ; 
so I would have them bestow upon themselves all the additional 
beauties that art can supply them with, provided it does not in- 
terfere with, disguise, or pervert, those of nature. 

I consider woman as a beautiful romantic animal, that may 
be adorned with furs and feathers, pearls and diamonds, ores and 
silks. The lynx shall cast its skin at her feet to make her a tip- 
pet ; the peacock, parrot, and swan, shall pay contributions to 
her muff; the sear shall be searched for shells, and the rocks for 
gems ; and every part of nature furnish out its share towards 
the embellishment of a creature that is the most consummate 
work of it. All this I shall indulge them in ; but as for the pet- 
ticoat I have been speaking of, I neither can nor will, allow it. b 

a Poured — a profusion. Not exact. He might have said — " Such an 
abundance," or, better still, because more simply, — "so many charms and 
graces" 

b The inimitable ease and gaiety of humour, in this paper, occupies the 
mind so much, that one passes it over, without adverting, almost, to the 
extreme purity of the expression 

VOL. IV. — 5* 



l'lfi THE TATLER> [No. II 1 ? 

No. 117. SATURDAY, JANUARY 7, 1709. 

Durate, et vosmet rebus servate secundis. — Vieo. 

Sheer-Lane^ January 6. 

When I look into the frame and constitution of my own 
mind, there is no part of it which I observe with greater satisfac- 
tion, than that tenderness and concern which it bears for the 
good and happiness of mankind. My own circumstances are in- 
deed so narrow and scanty, that I should taste but very little 
pleasure, could I receive it only from those enjoyments which are 
in my own possession ; but by this great tincture of humanity, 
which I find in all my thoughts and reflections, I am happier 
than any single person can be, with all the wealth, strength 
beauty, and success, that can be conferred upon a. mortal, if he 
only relishes such a proportion of these blessings as is vested in 
himself, and is his own private property. By this means, every 
man that does himself any real service, does me a kindness. I 
come in for my share in all the good that happens to a man of 
merit and virtue, and partake of many gifts of fortune and power 
that I was never born to. There is nothing m particular in 
which I so much rejoice, as the deliverance of good and generous 
spirits out of dangers, difficulties, and distresses. And because 
the world does not supply instances of this kind to furnish out 
sufficient entertainments for such an humanity and benevolence 
of temper, I have ever delighted in reading the history of ages 
past, which draws together into a narrow compass the great oc 
currences and events that are but thinly sown in those tracts of 
time which lie within our own knowledge and observation. When 
I see the life of a great man, who has deserved well of his coun 
try, after having struggled through all the oppositions of preju- 
d:3e and envy, breaking out with lustre, and shining forth in all 



No. 117. j THE TATLER. 107 

the splendor of success, I close my book, and am an happy man 
for a whole evening. 

But since in history, events are of a mixed nature, and often 
happen alike to the worthless and the deserving, insomuch that 
we frequently see a virtuous man dying in the midst of disap- 
pointments and calamities, and the vicious ending their days in 
prosperity and peace ; I love to amuse myself with the accounts 
I meet with in fabulous histories and fictions : for in this kind of 
writings we have always the pleasure of seeing vice punished and 
virtue rewarded. Indeed, were we able to view a man in the 
whole circle of his existence, we should have the satisfaction of 
seeing it close with happiness or misery, according to his proper 
merit : but though our view of him is interrupted by death be- 
fore the finishing of his adventures, (if I may so speak) we may 
be sure that the conclusion and catastrophe is altogether suitable 
to his behaviour. On the contrary, the whole being of a man, 
considered as an hero, or a knight-errant, is comprehended within 
the limits of a poem or romance, and therefore always ends to 
our satisfaction ; so that inventions of this kind are like food and 
exercise to a good natured disposition, which they please and 
gratify at the same time that they nourish and strengthen. 41 The 
greater the affliction is in which we see our favourites in these re- 
lations engaged, the greater is the pleasure we take in seeing 
them relieved. 

Among the many feigned histories which I have met with in 
my reading, there is none in which the hero's perplexity is 
greater, and the winding out of it more difficult, than that in a 
French author whose name I have forgot. It so happens, that 
the hero's mistress was the sister of his most intimate friend, 
who, for certain reasons was given out to be dead, while he was 
preparing to leave his country in quest of adventures. The here 

• After the verb, add, " it." 



l08 THETATLER. [No. 117 

having heard of his friend's death, immediately repaired to his 
mistress, to condole with her, and comfort her. Upon his arrival 
in her garden, he discovered at a distance, a man clasped in her 
arms, and embraced with the most endearing tenderness. What 
should he do ? It did not consist with the gentleness cf a knight- 
errant either to kill his mistress, or the man whom she was 
pleased to favour. At the same time, it would have spoiled a 
romance, should he have laid violent hands on himself. In short, 
he immediately entered upon his adventures ; and after a long 
series of exploits, found out by degrees, that the person he saw 
in his mistress's arms was her own brother, taking leave of her 
before he left his country, and the embrace she gave him, nothing 
else but the affectionate farewell of a sister : so that he had at 
once the two greatest satisfactions that could enter into the heart 
of man, in finding his friend alive, whom he thought dead; and 
his mistress faithful, whom he had believed inconstant. 

There are indeed some disasters so very fatal, that it is im 
possible for any accidents to rectify them. Of this kind was 
that of poor Lucretia ; and yet we see Ovid has found an expe- 
dient even in a case like hers. He describes a beautiful and 
royal virgin walking on the sea-shore, where she was discovered 
by Neptune, and violated after a long and unsuccessful impor- 
tunity. To mitigate her sorrow, he offers her whatever she 
would wish for. Never, certainly, was the wit of woman more 
puzzled in finding out a stratagem to retrieve her honour. Had 
she desired to be changed into a stock or stone, a beast, fish, or 
fowl, she would have been a loser by it : or had she desired to 
have been made a sea-nymph, or a goddess, her immortality 
would but have perpetuated her disgrace. G-ive me, therefore, 
said she, such a shape as may make me incapable of suffering 
again the like calamity, or of being reproached for what I have 
already suffered. To be short, she was turned into \ man, and 



Ni.. 117.] THETATLER. 109 

by that only means avoided the danger and imputation she so 
much dreaded. 

I was once myself in agonies of grief that are unutterable, 
and in so great a distraction of mind, that I thought myself even 
out of the possibility of receiving comfort. The occasion was as 
follows : When I was a youth in a part of the army which was 
then quartered at Dover, I fell in love with an agreeable young 
woman, of a good family in those parts, and had the satisfaction 
of seeing my addresses kindly received, which occasioned the 
perplexity I am going to relate. 

tV"e were in a calm evening diverting ourselves upon the top 
of the cliff with the prospect of the sea, and trifling away the 
time in such little fondnesses as are most ridiculous to people in 
business, and most agreeable to those in love. 

In the midst of these our innocent endearments, she snatched 
a paper of verses out of my hand, and ran away with them. I 
was following her, when on a sudden the ground, though at a 
considerable distance from the verge of the precipice, sunk under 
her, and threw her down from so prodigious an height upon such 
a range of rocks, as would have dashed her into ten thousand 
pieces, had her body been made of adamant. It is much easier 
for my reader to imagine my state of mind upon such an oc 
casion, than for me to express it. I said to myself, c It is not 
in the power of heaven to relieve me ! ' When I awaked, a equally 
transported and astonished, to see myself drawn out of an afflic 
tion which the very moment before appeared to me altogether 
inextricable. 1 

The impressions of grief and horror were so lively on this 

i This story forms the subject of a long eulogium in Beattie's Disserta- 
•ions Moral and Critical. — Gr, 

a When I awaked. Inimitably contrived, not to tell us that this ad- 
venture was a dream, till we come to the catastrophe of it. 



110 THE TAUER. [No. 117 

occasion, that while they lasted, they made me more miserable 
than I was at the real death of this beloved person, (which hap- 
pened a few months after, at a time when the match between us 
was concluded) inasmuch as the imaginary death was untimely, 
and I myself in a sort an accessary ; whereas her decease had at 
least these alleviations, of being natural and inevitable. 

The memory of the dream I have related, still dwells so 
strongly upon me, that I can never read the description of Dover- 
Cliff in Shakespear's tragedy of King Lear, without a fresh sense 
of my escape. The prospect from that place is drawn with such 
proper incidents, that whoever can read it without growing ^iddy 
must have a good head, or a very bad one. a 

Come on, sir, here's the place. Stand still ! how fearful 

And dizzy 'tis to cast one's e*"3s so low? 

The crows and choughs ih»-j wing the midway air 

Show scarce as gross as beetles. Half-way down 

Hangs one that gathers samphire. Dreadful trade ! 

Methinks he seems no bigger than his head. 

The fishermen that walk upon the beach 

Appear like mice, and yon tall anchoring bark 

Diminish'd to her boat, 1 her boat a buoy 

Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge 

(That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles beats) 

Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more, 

Lest my brain turn. 

1 Was this Addison's reading, or that of some edition he consulted ? — G. 

a A quibble, not much to the credit of the writer. For, by a good head, 
is here meant, a head that does not turn and grow giddy at the sight of a 
precipice: and by a bad one, is meant a head, that leaves a man insensible 
to the fgrce of this description. But these two heads m ty grow together 
on the same shoulders. The thought, then, is a false one, and the opposi- 
tion is only in the sound, not in the sense. 



I 



8<> 119.] THETATLER. Ill 

No. 119. THURSDAY, JANUARY 12, 1 09. 

In tenui labor. Vnta 

Sheer-Lane, January 11 
I have lately applied myself with much satisfaction to the 
curious discoveries that have been made by the help of micro- 
scopes, as they are related by authors ©f our own and other na- 
tions. There is a great deal of pleasure in prying into this 
world of wonders, which nature has laid out of sight, and seems 
industrious to conceal from us. Philosophy had ranged over 
all the visible creation, and began to want objects for her inquiries, 
when the present age, by the invention of glasses, opened a new 
and inexhaustible magazine of rarities, more wonderful and 
amazing than any of those which astonished our forefathers. I 
was yesterday amusing myself with speculations of this kind, and 
reflecting upon myriads of animals that swim in those little seas 
of juices that are contained in the several vessels of an human 
body. While my mind was thus filled with that secret wonder 
and delight, I could not but look upon myself as in an act of 
devotion, and am very well pleased with the thought of the great 
heathen anatomist, who calls his description of the parts of an 
human body, ' An Hymn to the Supreme Being.' 1 The reading 
of the day produced in my imagination an agreeable morning's 
dream, if I may call it such : for I am still in doubt, whether it 
passed in my sleeping or waking thoughts. ft However it was, I 
fancied that my good genius stood at my bed's head, and enter- 
tained me with the following discourse ; for upon my rising, it 

1 Galen. — De usu partium. — G. 

a Waking thoughts. Finely observed, to intimate that what follows 
how fantastic soever it may seem, hath its foundation in truth and fact 



112 THE TATLER. jNo. 119 

dwelt so strongly upon me, that I writ down the substance of it 
if not the very words. 

If (said he) you can be so transported with those productions 
of nature which are discovered to you by those artificial eyes 
that are the works of human invention, how great will your sur- 
prise be, when you shall have it in your power to model your 
own eye as you please, and adapt it to the bulk of objects, which, 
with all these helps, are by infinite degrees too minute for your 
perception. We who are unbodied spirits, can sharpen our si^ht 
to what degree we think fit, and make the least work of the cre- 
ation distinct and visible. This gives us such ideas as cannot 
possibly enter into your present conceptions. There is not tht 
least particle of matter which may not furnish one of us sufficient 
employment for a whole eternity. We can still divide it, and 
still open it, and still discover new wonders of Providence, as we 
look into the different texture of its parts, and meet with beds 
of vegetables, mineral and metallic mixtures, and several kinds 
of animals that lie hid, and as it were lost in such an endless 
fund of matter. I find you are surprised at this discourse ; but 
as your reason tells you- there are infinite parts in the smallest 
portion of matter, it will likewise convince you, that there is as 
great a variety of secrets, and as much room for discoveries, ir 
a particle no bigger than the point of a pin, as in the globe of 
the whole earth. Your microscopes bring to sight shoals of liv- 
ing creatures in a spoonful of vinegar ; but we, who can distin- 
guish them in their different magnitudes, see among them sev- 
eral huge Leviathans, that terrify the little fry of animals about 
them, and take their pastime as in an ocean, or the great deep. 
I could not but smile at this part of his relation, and told him, I 
doubted not but he could give me the history of several invisible 
giants, accompanied with their respective dwarfs, in case that any 
of these little beings are of an human shape. You may assure 



Nc 119.] THE TATLER. *13 

yourself (said he) that we see in these little animals different 
natures, instincts, and modes of life, which correspond to what 
you observe in creatures of bigger dimensions. We descry mil- 
lions of species subsisted" on a green leaf, which your glasses 
represent only in crowds and swarms. What appears to your 
eye but as hair or down rising on the surface of it, we find to be 
woods and forests, inhabited by beasts of prey, that are as dread- 
ful in those their haunts, as lions and tigers in the deserts of 
Libya. I was much delighted with his discourse, and could not 
forbear telling him, that I should be wonderfully pleased to see 
a natural history of imperceptibles, containing a true account of 
such vegetables and animals as grow and live out of sight. Such 
disquisitions (answered he) are very suitable to reasonable crea- 
tures ; and you may be sure, there are many curious spirits 
amongst us who employ themselves in such amusements. For 
as our hands, and all our senses, may be formed to what degree 
Of strength and delicacy we please, in the same manner as our 
sight, we can make what experiments we are inclined to, how 
small soever the matter be in which we make them. I have been 
present at the dissection of a mite, and have seen the skeleton of 
a flea. I have been shown a forest of numberless trees, which 
has been picked out of an acorn. Your microscope can show 
you in it a compleat oak in miniature ; and could you suit all 
your organs as we do, you might pluck an acorn from this littla 
oak, which contains another tree ; and so proceed from tree to 
tree, as long as you would think fit to continue your disquisitions 
It is almost impossible (added he) to talk of things so remote 
from common life, and the ordinary notions which mankind re- 
ceive from blunt and gross organs of sense, without appearing ex- 
travagant and ridiculous. You have often seen a dog opened > b 

a Subsided. Subsist, has no participle passive. He should have said 
" subsisting." 

h I wonder that a man of Mr. Addison's humanity could speak of open, 



I 14 THE TATLER. [No. 119 

to observe the circulation of the blood, or make any other useful 
inquiry ; and yet would be tempted to laugh if I should tell you, 
that a circle of much greater philosophers than any of the Royal 
Society, were present at the cutting up of one of those little ani- 
mals which we find in the blue of a plumb ; that it was tied down 
alive before them; and that they observed the palpitations of 
the heart, the coarse of the blood, the working of the muscles, 
and the convulsions in the several limbs, with great accuracy and 
improvement. I must confess, (said I) for my own part, I go 
along with you in all your discoveries with great pleasure ; but 
it is certain, they are too fine for the gross of mankind, who are 
more struck with the description of every thing that is great and 
bulky. Accordingly we find the best judge of human nature 
setting forth his wisdom, not in the formation of these minute 
animals, (though indeed no less wonderful than the other) but in 
that of the Leviathan and Behemoth, the Horse and the Croco- 
dile. Your observation (said he) is very just ; and I must ac- 
knowledge for my own part, that although it is with much de- 
light that I see the traces of Providence in these instances, I 
still take greater pleasure in considering the works of the crea- 
tion in their immensity, than in their minuteness. For this 
reason, I rejoice when I strengthen my sight so as to make it 
-pierce into the most remote spaces, and take a view of those 
heavenly bodies which lie out of the reach of human eyes, though 
assisted by telescopes. What you look upon as one confused 
white in the milky-way, appears to me a long tract of heavens, 
distinguished by stars that are ranged in proper figures and con- 
stellations. While you are admiring the sky in a starry night, I 
am entertained with a variety of worlds and suns placed one 

mg a dog, with so much unconcern ; or think it justifiable on the pretence 
of making an useful discovery. 



ffo. 120.] THE TATLER. 115 

above another, and rising up to such an immense distance, that 
no created eye can see an end of them. 

_ The latter part of his discourse flung me into such an aston- 
ishment, that he had been silent for some time before I took 
notice of it ; when on a sudden I started up and drew my cur- 
tains, to look if any one was near me, but saw nobody, and can- 
not tell to this moment, whether it was my good genius or a 
dream that left me. 



No. 120. SATURDAY. JANUARY 14, 1709. 



— Velut silvis, ubi passim 



Palantes error certo de tramite pellit ; 

Ille sinistrorsum, hie dextrorsum abit — Hoe. 

Sheer-Lane, January 13. 

Instead of considering any particular passion or character 
in any one set of men, my thoughts were last night employed on 
the contemplation of human life in general ; and truly it appears 
to me, that the whole species are hurried on by the same desires, 
and engaged in the same pursuits, according to the different stages 
and divisions of life. Youth is devoted to lust, middle age to 
ambition, old age to avarice. These are the three general motives 
and principles of action both in good and bad men ; though it 
must be acknowledged that they change their names, and refine 
their natures, according to the temper of the person whom they 
direct and animate. For with the good, lust becomes virtuouF 
love ; ambition, true honour ; and avarice, the care of posterity. 
This scheme of thought amused me very agreeably till I retired 
to rest, and afterwards formed itself into a pleasing and regular 



lib THE TATLER, [No. 120 

vision, 8 which I shall describe in al its circumstances, as the ob 
jects presented themselves, whether in a serious or ridiculous 
manner. 

I dreamed that I was in a wood, of so prodigious an extent, 
and cut into such a variety of walks and alleys, that all mankind 
were lost and bewildered in it. After having wandered up and 
down some time, I came into the centre of it, which opened into 
a wide plain, filled with multitudes of both sexes. I here dis- 
covered three great roads, very wide and long, that led into three 
different parts of the forest. On a sudden, the whole multitude 
broke into three parts, according to their different ages, and 
marched in their respective bodies into the three great roads that 
lay before them. As I had a mind to know how each of these 
roads terminated, and whither it would lead those who passed 
through them, I joined myself with the assembly that were in 
the flower and vigour of their age, and called themselves ' The 
Band of Lovers.' I found to my great surprise, that several old 
men besides myself had intruded into this agreeable company ; 
as I had before observed, there were some young men who had 
united themselves to the band of misers, and were walking up the 
path of Avarice ; though both made a very ridiculous figure, and 
were as much laughed at by those they joined, as by those they 
forsook. The walk which we marched up, for thickness of shades, 

a Mr. Addison's serious papers on human life, have not, in general the 
merit of his humorous. Even his style, on these occasions, (his genius' not 
lying towards abstract, or formal discourse) hath a languor in it, which all 
the graces < f his polished manner cannot conceal. But when he throws 
himself out in dreams and visions, the case is much otherwise. For his 
poetic invention supplies him with many apt resemblances; and his magic 
style (fired by the subject, and the writer's iove of it) is then so bright and 
glowing, that Plato himself is but second to him in this province of moral 
allegory. His genius may be compared to the Spirit in Milton's mask. 
When dad in this earth-worn mould, I mean, in the hackneyed c oim of dis- 
sertation, one may take him for an ordinary swain or villager: but when 
he sports at ease, in his own element, and, as the poet says, 'plays V tk' 
plighted clouds" the reader is awe-struck, and easily recognises his divine 
original. 



U).120.] THE TATLER. 117 

embroidery of flowers, and melody of birds, with the distant pur 
ling of streams, and falls of water, was so wonderfully delightful, 
that it charmed our senses, and intoxicated our minds with pleas- 
ure. We had not been long here, before every man singled out 
some woman to whom he offered his addresses, and professed 
himself a lover ; when on a sudden we perceived this delicious 
walk to grow more narrow as we advanced in it, till it ended in 
many intricate thickets, mazes, and labyrinths, that were so 
mixed with roses and brambles, brakes of thorns, and beds of 
flowers, rocky paths, and pleasing grottos, that it was hard to say. 
whether it gave greater delight or perplexity to those who trav- 
elled in it. 

It was here that the lovers began to be eager in their pur- 
suits. Some of their mistresses, who only seemed to retire for 
the sake of form and decency, led them into plantations that 
were disposed into regular walks ; where, after they had wheeled 
about in some turns and windings, they suffered themselves to be 
overtaken, and gave their hands to those who pursued them. 
Others withdrew from their followers into little wildernesses, 
where there were so many paths interwoven with each other, in so 
much confusion and irregularity, that several of the lovers quit- 
ted the pursuit, or broke their hearts in the chase. It was some- 
times very odd to see a man pursuing a fine woman that was fol- 
lowing another, whose eye was fixed upon a fourth, that had her 
own game in view in some other quarter of the wilderness. I 
could not but observe two things in this place which I thought 
rery particular, that several persons who stood only at the end of 
khe avenues, and cast a careless eye upon the nymphs during 
their whole flight, often catched them, when those who pressed 
them the most warmly through all their turns and doubles, were 
wholly unsuccessful : and that some of my own age, who were at 
first looked upon with aversion and contempt, by being well ac- 



118 THE TATLER. [No. 120. 

quainted with the wilderness, and by dodging their women in the 
particular corners and alleys of it, catched them in their <trins, 
and took them from those whom they really loved and admired. 
There was a particular grove, which was called ' The Labyrinth 
of Coquettes ; ' where many were enticed to the chase, but few 
returned with purchase. It was pleasant enough to see a cele- 
brated beauty, by smiling upon one, casting a glance upon another, 
beckoning to a third, and adapting her charms and graces to the 
several follies of those that admired her, drawing into the laby- 
rinth a whole pack of lovers, that lost themselves in the maze, 
and never could find their way out of it. However, it was some 
satisfaction to me, to see many of the fair ones, who had thus de- 
luded their followers, and left them among the intricacies of the 
labyrinth, obliged, when they came out of it, to surrender to 
the first partner that offered himself. I now had crossed over all 
the difficult and perplexed passages that seemed to bound our 
walk, when on the other side of them, I saw the same great road 
running on a little way, till it was terminated by two beautiful 
temples. I stood here for some time, and saw most of the multi- 
tude who had been dispersed amongst the thickets, coming out 
two by two, and marching up in pairs towards the temples that 
stood before us. The structure on the right hand was (as I after- 
wards found) consecrated to Virtuous Love, and could not be 
entered but by such as received a ring, or some other token, from 
a person who was placed as a guard at the gate of it. He wore 
a garland of roses and myrtles on his head, and on his shoulders 
a robe like an imperial mantle, white and unspotted all over, ex- 
cepting only, that where it was clasped at his breast, there were 
two golden turtle doves that buttoned it by their bills, which were 
wrought in rubies. He was called by the name of Hymen, and 
was seated near the temple, in a delicious bower, made up of 
several trees, that were embraced by woodbines, jessamines, and 



No. 120.] THETATLER. 119 

amaranths, which were as so many emblem* of marriage, and 
ornaments to the trunks that supported them. As I was single 
and unaccompanied, I was not permitted to enter the temple, and 
for that reason am a stranger to all the mysteries that were per- 
formed in it. I had, however, the curiosity to observe how the 
several couples that entered were disposed of; which was after 
the following manner. There were two great gates on the back- 
side of the edifice, at which the whole crowd was let out. At 
one of these gates were two women, extremely beautiful, though 
in a different kind, the one having a very careful and composed 
air, the other a sort of smile and ineffable sweetness in her coun- 
tenance. The name of the first was Discretion, and of the other 
Complacency. All who came out of this gate, and put them- 
selves under the direction of these two sisters, were immediately 
conducted by them into gardens, groves, and meadows, which 
abounded in delights, and were furnished with every thing that 
could make them the proper seats of happiness. The second 
gate of this temple let out all the couples that were unhappily 
married, who came out linked together by chains, which each of 
them strove to break, but could not. Several of these were such 
as had never been acquainted with each other, before they met 
in the great walk, or had been too well acquainted in the thicket. 
The entrance of this gate was possessed by three sisters, who 
joined themselves with these wretches, and occasioned most of 
their miseries. The youngest of the sisters was known by the 
name of Levity, who with the innocence of a virgin, had the 
dress and behaviour of a harlot. The name of the second was 
Contention, who bore on her right arm a muff made of the skin 
of a porcupine ; and on her left carried a little lap-dog, that 
barked and snapped at every one that passed by her. 

The eldest of the sisters, who seemed to have an haughty and 
Imperious air, was always accompanied with a tawny Cupid, who 



120 THE TATLER. L No - 12 <> 

generally marched before her with a little mace on his shoulder, 
the end of which was fashioned into the horns of a stag. Her 
garments were yellow, and her complexion pale. Her eyes were 
piercing, but had odd casts in them, and that particular distem- 
per, which makes persons who are troubled with it, see objects 
double. Upon inquiry, I was informed that her name waf 
Jealousy. 

Having finished my observations upon this temple, and its 
votaries, I repaired to that which stood on the left hand, and was 
called, ' The Temple of Lust.' The front of it was raised on 
Corinthian pillars, with all the meretricious ornaments that ac- 
company that order ; whereas that of the other was composed of 
the'chaste and matron-like Ionic. The sides of it were adorned 
with several grotesque figures of goats, sparrows, heathen gods, 
satyrs, and monsters, made up of half man half beast. The 
gates were unguarded, and open to all that had a mind to enter. 
Upon my going in, I found the windows were blinded, and let in 
only a kind of twilight, that served to discover a prodigious 
number of dark corners and apartments, into which the whole 
temple was divided. I was here stunned with a mixed noise of 
clamour and jollity ; on one side of me, I heard singing and 
dancing ; on the other, brawls and clashing of swords. In short, 
I was so little pleased with the place, that I was going out of it ; 
but found I could not return by the gate where I entered, which 
was barred against all that were come in, with bolts of iron, and 
locks of adamant. There was no going back from this temple 
through the paths of pleasure which led to it ; all who passed 
through the ceremonies of the place, went out at an iron wicket, 
which was kept by a dreadful giant called Remorse, that held a 
scourge of scorpions in his hand, and drove them into the only 
outlet from that temple. This was a passage so rugged, so un 
even, and choked with so many thorns and briars, that it was a 



No. 120.] THE TATLER, 12* 

melancholy spectacle to behold the pains and difficulties which 
both sexes suffered who walked through it. The men, though in 
the prime of their youth, appeared weak and enfeebled with old 
age : the women wrung their hands, and tore their hair ; and 
several lost their limbs before they could extricate themselves 
out of the perplexities of the path in which they were engaged. 
The remaining part of this "vision, and the adventures I met with 
in the two great roads of Ambition and Avarice, must be the 
subject of another paper. 

ADVERTISEMENT. 
I have this morning received the following letter from the fa- 
mous Mr. Thomas Doggek 

"Sir, 

" On Monday next will be acted for my benefit, the comedy 
of Love for Love : if you will do me the honour to appear there, 
t will publish on the bills, that it is to be performed at the re- 
quest of Isaac Bickerstaffe, Esq. and question not but it will 
bring me as great an audience, as ever was at the house since 
the Morocco ambassador was there. 

" I am, (with the greatest respect) 
Your most obedient, 

And most humble servant, 

Thomas Dogget" 

Being naturally an encourager of wit, as well as bound to it in 
the quality of censor, I returned the following answer 

" Mr. Dogget, 

" I am very well pleased with the choice you have made of 

so excellent a play, and have always looked upon you as the best 

of comedians ; I shall, therefore, come in between the first ana 

second act, and remain in the right-hand box over the pit till the 

vol. iv. — 6 



122 THE TATLER. [No. 123 

end of the fourth, provided you take care that every thing be 
rightly prepared for my reception." 



No. 121. TUESDAY, JANUARY 17, 1709. 



-Similis tibi, Cynthia, vel tibi cujus 



Turbavit nitidos extinctus passer ocellos. — Juv. 

From my own Apartment, January 16. 
I was recollecting the remainder of my vision, when my maid 
came to me, and told me, there was a gentlewoman below who 
seemed to be in great trouble, and pressed very much to see me. 
When it lay in my power to remove the distress of am unhappy 
person, I thought I should very ill employ my time in attending 
matters of speculation, and therefore desired the lady would walk 
in. When she entered, I saw her eyes full of tears ; however, 
her grief was not so great as to make her omit rules : for she was 
very long and exact in her civilities, which gave me time to view 
and consider her. Her clothes were very rich, but tarnished ; 
and her words very fine, but ill applied. These distinctions 
made me without hesitation (though I had never seen her before) 
ask her, ' If her lady had any commands for me ? ' She then be- 
gan to weep afresh, and with many broken sighs told me, ' That 
their family was in very great affliction ' — I beseeched her to 
compose herself, for that I might possibly be capable of assist- 
ing them. She then cast her eye upon my little dog, and 

was again transported with toe much passion to proceed ; but 
with much t*do, she at last gave me to understand, that Cu- 
pid, her lady : a lap-dog, was dangerously ill, and in so bad a con- 
dition, that her lady neither saw company, nor went abroad, for 
which reason she did not come herself to consult me ; that as I 



ffo.121.] THE TATLER. 123 

had mentioned with great affection my own dog, (here she curt- 
sied, and looking first at the cur, and then on me, said, ' Indeed 
I had reason, for he was very pretty') her lady sent to me rather 
than to any other doctor, and hoped I would not laugh at her 
sorrow, but send her my advice. I must confess, I had some 
indignation to find myself treated like something below a far- 
rier ; yet well knowing, that the best as well as most tender way 
of dealing with a woman, is to fall in with her humours, and by 
that means, to let her see the absurdity of them ; I proceeded 
accordingly : ' Pray, madam,' said I, ' can you give me any me- 
thodical account of this illness, and how Cupid was first taken ? ' 
' Sir, (said she,) we have a little ignorant country girl, who is 
kept to tend him : she was recommended to our family by one, 
that my lady never saw but once, at a visit ; and you know, per- 
sons of quality are always inclined to strangers ; for I could 
have helped her to a cousin of my own, but — ' ' Good madam 
(said I,) you neglect the account of the sick body, fl while you an 
complaining of this girl.' ' No, no, sir, (said she,) begging your 
pardon : but it is the general fault of physicians, they are so in 
haste, that they never hear out the case. I say, this silly girl, 
after washing Cupid, let him stand half an hour in the window 
without his collar, where he catched cold, and in an hour after 
began to bark very hoarse. He had, however, a pretty good 
night, and we hoped the danger was over ; but for these two 
nights last past, neither he nor my lady have slept a wink.' 
' Has he, (said I,) taken any thing ? ' 'No, (said she,) but my 
lady says, he shall take any thing that you prescribe, provided 
you do not make use of Jesuits powder, 1 or the cold bath. 2 Pool 

1 Peruvian bark — not yet successfully introduced, though it had been 
known above fifty years. — G-. 

2 The 'water cure' was already the subject of discussion. V. a cu 
rioua note to No. 15 of the Tatler in Nichols' ed.— G. 

a The sick body. The humour of this expression is inimitable. 



124 THE TATLER. [No. 121. 

Cupid, (continued she,) has always been pthisical, and as he lies 
under something like a chin cough, we are afraid it will end in a 
consumption.' I then asked her, l If she had brought any of his 
water to shew me ? ' Upon this, she stared me in the face, and 
said, ' I am afraid, Mr. Bickerstafife, you are not serious ; * but if 
you have any receipt that is proper on this occasion, pray let us 
have it, for my mistress is. not to be comforted.' Upon this, I 
paused a little without returning any answer ; and after some 
short silence, I proceeded in the following manner : b 'I have 
considered the nature of the distemper, and the constitution of 
the patient, and by the best observation that I can make on both, 
I think it safest to put him into a course of kitchen physic. [In 
the mean time, to remove his hoarseness, it will be the most nat- 
ural way to make Cupid his own druggist : for which reason, I 
shall prescribe to him, three mornings successively, as much pow- 
der as will lie on a groat, of that noble remedy which the apoth- 
ecaries call album Grcscum. Upon hearing this advice, the 
young woman smiled, as if she knew how ridiculous an errand 
she had been employed in ; and indeed I found by the sequel of 
her discourse, that she was an arch baggage, and of a character 
that is frequent enough in persons of her employment, who are 
so used to conform themselves in every thing to the humours and 
passions of their mistresses, that they sacrifice superiority of 
sense to superiority of condition, and are insensibly betrayed 
into the passions and prejudices of those whom they serve, with- 

a This was put in to prepare the way for the change of character. — 
See the next page. 

b Proceeded in the following manner. I suppose, in Mr. Addison's orig- 
inal draught, it stood thus — " I dismissed her with the following prescrip- 
tion." 

c This change of character in the Abigail, is so foreign to the design 
of the paper; is so languidly expressed, and carried on in a vein of hu 
mour so unlike Mr. A Idison's, that I think it should be given to his coadju- 
tor. What I mean, is, so much of this page as is contained within the 
crotchets, from " In the mean" &c. to "forced her out." 



N'O. 121.] THE TATLER. 125 

out giving themselves leave to consider, that they are extrava- 
gant and ridiculous. However, I thought it very natural, when 
her eyes were thus open, to see her give a new turn to her dis- 
course, and from sympathizing with her mistress in her follies, 
to fall a railing at her. { You cannot imagine, (said she,) Mr. 
Bickerstaffe, what a life she makes us lead for the sake of this 
ugly cur : if he dies, we are the most unhappy family in town. 
She chanced to lose a parrot last year, which, to tell you truly, 
brought me into her service ; for she turned off her woman upon 
it, who had lived with her ten years, because she neglected to 
give him water, though every one of the family says, she was as 
innocent of the bird's death, as the babe that is unborn. Nay, 
she told me this very morning, that if Cupid should die, she 
would send the poor innocent wench I was telling you of, to 
Bridewell, and have the milk- woman tried for her life at the Old 
Bailey, for putting water into his milk. In short, she talks like 
any distracted creature.' 

* Since it is so, young woman, (said I,) I will by no means let 
you offend her, by staying on this message longer than is abso- 
lutely necessary ; ' and so forced her out.] 

While I am studying to cure those evils and distresses that 
are necessary or natural to human life, I find my task growing 
upon me, since by these accidental cares, and acquired calamities, 
(if I may so call them,) my patients contract distempers to which 
their constitution is of itself a stranger. But this is an evil [ 
have for many years remarked in the fair sex ; and as they are 
by nature very much formed for affection and dalliance, I have 
observed, that when by too obstinate a cruelty, or any other 
means, they have disappointed themselves of the proper objects 
of love, as husbands, or children, such virgins have exactly at 
such a year grown fond of lap-dogs, parrots, or other animals. I 
know at this time a celebrated toast, whom I allow to bo one of 



126 THE TATLER. [No. 121, 

the most agreeable of her sex, that in the presence of her ad- 
mirers, will give a torrent of kisses to her cat, any one of which 
a Christian would be glad of. I do not at the same time deny, 
but there are as great enormities of this kind committed by our 
sex as theirs. A Roman emperor had so very great an esteem 
for an horse of his, that he had thoughts of making him a consul ; 
and several moderns of that rank of men, whom we call country 
'squires, will not scruple to kiss their hounds before all the world, 
and declare, in the presence of their wives, that they had rather 
salute a favourite of the pack, than the finest woman in England. 
These voluntary friendships between animals of different species, 
seo.m to arise from instinct ; for which reason, I have always 
looked upon the mutual goodwill between the 'squire and the 
hound, to be of the same nature with that between the lion and 
the jackal. 

The only extravagance of this kind which appears to me ex- 
cusable, is one that grew out of an excess of gratitude, which I have 
somewhere met with in the life of a Turkish emperor. His horse 
had brought him safe out of a field of battle, and from the pur- 
suit of a victorious enemy. As a reward for such his good and 
faithful service, his master built him a stable of marble, shod him 
with gold, fed him in an ivory manger, and made him a rack of 
silver. He annexed to the stable several fields and meadows, 
lakes and running streams. At the same time he provided for 
him a seraglio of mares, the most beautiful that could be found 
in the whole Ottoman empire. To these were added a suitable 
train of domestics, consisting of grooms, farriers, rubbers, &c, 
accommodated with proper liveries and pensions. In short, no- 
thing was omitted that could contribute to the ease and happiness 
of his life who had preserved the emperor's. 

* By reason of the extreme cold, and the changeable! ess of 



No. 122/J THETATLER. 127 

the weather, I have been prevailed upon to allow the free use of 
the fardingal till the 20th of February next ensuing.' 



No. 122. THURSDAY, JANUARY 19, 1709. 

Cur in Theatrum Cato severe venisti ?— Mart. 

From my own Apartment, January 18. 
I find it is thought necessary, that I (who have taken upon 
me to censure the irregularities of the age) should give an ac- 
count of my actions when they appear doubtful, or subject to 
misconstruction. My appearing at the play on Monday last, a is 
looked upon as a step in m}^ conduct which I ought to explain, 
that others may not be misled by my example. It is true in 
matter of fact, I was present at the ingenious entertainment of 
that day, and placed myself in a box which was prepared for me 
with great civility and distinction. It is said of Virgil, when he 
entered a Roman theatre, where there were many thousands of 
spectators present, that the whole assembly rose up to do him 
honour ; a respect which was never before paid to any but the 
emperor. I must confess, that universal clap, and other testimo- 
nies of applause, with which I was received at my first ap- 
pearance in the theatre of Great Britain, gave me as sensible a 
delight, as the above-mentioned reception could give to that im- 
mortal poet. I should be ungrateful at the same time, if I did 
not take this opportunity of acknowledging the great civilities 
that were shown me by Mr. Thomas Dogget, who made his com- 
pliments to me between the acts after a most ingenuous and dis- 
creet manner ; and at the same time communicated to me, that 

a N. B. A person dressed for Isaac Bickerstaffe did appear at the play 
house on this occasion. 



(2S THE TATLER. [No. 122. 

the company of upholders desired to receive me at their door at 
the end of the Hayrnarket, and to light me home to my lodg- 
ings. That part of the ceremony I forbade, and took parti- 
cular carje during the whole play to observe the conduct of the 
drama, and give no offence by my own behaviour. Here I think 
it will not be foreign to my character, to lay down the proper 
duties of an audience, and what is incumbent upon each indi- 
vidual spectator in public diversions of this nature. Every 
one should on these occasions show his attention, understanding, 
and virtue. I would undertake to find out all the persons of 
dense and breeding by the effect of a single sentence, and to dis- 
tinguish a gentleman as much by his laugh as his bow. When 
we see the footman and his lord diverted by the same jest, it 
very much turns to the diminution of the one, or the honour of 
the other. But though a man's quality may appear in his under- 
standing and taste, the regard to virtue ought to be the same 
in all ranks and conditions of men, however they make a 
profession of it under the name of honour, religion, or morality. 
When, therefore, we see any thing divert an audience, either in 
tragedy or comedy, that strikes at the duties of civil life, or ex 
poses what the best men in all ages have looked upon as sacred 
and inviolable, it is the certain sign of a profligate race of men, 
who are fallen from the virtue of their forefathers, and will be 
contemptible in the eyes of their posterity. For this reason I 
took great delight in seeing the generous and disinterested pas- 
sion of the lovers in this comedy (which stood so many trials, and 
was proved by such a variety of diverting incidents) received 
with an universal approbation. This brings - to my mind a pas- 
sage in Cicero, which I could never read without being in love 
with the virtue of a Roman audience. 1 He there describes the 
shouts and applauses which the people gave to the persons who 
i De Amicitia. 



No 122."! THE TATLER. 12t> 

acted the parts of Pylades and Orestes, in the noblest occasion 
that a poet could invent to show friendship in perfection. One 
of them had forfeited his life by an action which he had commit- 
ted ; and as they stood in judgment before the tyrant, each of them 
strove who should be the criminal, that he might save the life 
of his friend. Amidst the vehemence of each asserting himself 
to be the offender, the Roman audience gave a thunder of ap- 
plause, and by that means, as the author hints, approved in 
others what they would have done themselves on the like occa- 
sion. Methinks, a people of so much virtue were deservedly 
placed at the head of mankind : but, alas ! pleasures of this na- 
ture are not frequently to be met with on the English stage. 

The Athenians, at a time when they were the most polite, as 
well as the most powerful government in the world, made the care 
of the stage one of the chief parts of the administration: and I 
must confess, I am astonished at the spirit of virtue which ap- 
peared in that people upon some expressions in a scene of a fa- 
mous tragedy ; an account of which we have in one of Seneca's 
epistles. A covetous person is represented speaking the common 
sentiments of all who are possessed with that vice in the follow- 
ing soliloquy, which I have translated literally. 

' Let me be called a base man, so I am called a rich one. If 
a man is rich, who asks if he is good ? The question is, how 
much we have ; not from whence, or by what means we have it. 
Every one has so much merit as he has wealth. For my own 
part, let me be rich, ye gods ! or let me die. The man dies 
happily, who dies increasing his treasure. There is more plea 
sure in the possession of wealth, than in that of parents, children, 
wife, or friends.' 

The audience were very much provoked by the first words of 
this speech ; but when the actor came to the close of it, they 
could bear no longer. In short, the whole assembly rose up at 
vol. iv. — 6* 



130 THE TATLER. [No. 122. 

once in the greatest fury, with a design to pluck him off the 
stage, and brand the work itself with infamy. In the midst of 
the tumult, the author came out from behind the scenes, begging 
the audience to be composed for a little while, and they should 
see the tragical end which this wretch should come to immedi- 
ately. The promise of punishment appeased the people, who sat 
with great attention and pleasure to see an example made of so 
odious a criminal. It is with shame and concern I speak it ; but 
I very much question, whether it is possible to make a speech so 
impious, as to raise such a laudable horror and indignation in a 
modern audience. 

It is very natural for an author to make ostentation of his 
reading, as it is for an old man to tell stories ; for which reason, 
E must beg the reader will excuse me, if I for once indulge my- 
self in both these inclinations. We see the attention, judgment, 
and virtue of a whole audience, in the foregoing instances. If 
we would imitate the behaviour of a single spectator, let us re- 
flect upon that of Socrates, in a particular which gives me as 
great an idea of that extraordinary man, as any circumstance of 
his life ; or, what is more, of his «death. This venerable person 
often frequented the theatre, which brought a great many thither 
out of a desire to see him. On which occasion, it is recorded of 
him, that he sometimes stood, to make himself the more conspicu- 
ous, and to satisfy the curiosity of the beholders. He was one 
day present at the first representation of a tragedy of Euripides, 
who was his intimate friend, and whom he is said to have assisted 
in several of his plays. In the midst of the tragedy, which had 
met with very great success, there chanc'd to be a line that 
seemed to encourage vice and immorality. 

This was no sooner spoken, but Socrates rose from his seat, 
and without any regard to his affection for his friend, or to the 
success of the play, showed himself displeased at what was said, 



N"o. 123.] THE TATLEPw. 13i 

• 

and walked out of the assembly. I question not but the reader 
will be curious to know what the line was that gave this divine 
heathen so much offence. If my memory fails me not, it was in 
the part of Hippolitus, who, when he is pressed by an oath, which 
he had taken to keep silence, returned for answer, that he had 
taken the oath with his tongue, but not with his heart. Had a 
person of a vicious character made such a speech, it might have 
been allowed as a proper representation of the baseness of his 
thoughts : but such an expression out of the mouth of the virtu- 
ous Hippolitus, was giving a sanction to falsehood, and establish- 
ing perjury by a maxim. 

Having got over all interruptions, I have set apart to-morrow 
for the closing of my vision. 



No. 123. SATURDAY, JANUARY 21, 1709. 

Audire atque togam jubeo componere, quisquis 
Ambitione mala, aut argenti pallet amore. — Hob. 

From my own Apartment, Jan. 20. 

A CONTINUATION OF THE VISION. 

With much labour and difficulty I passed through the first 
part of my vision, and recovered the centre of the wood, from 
whence I had the prospect of the three great roads. I here 
joined myself to the middle-aged party of mankind, who marched 
behind the standard of ambition. The great road lay in a direct 
line, and was terminated by the Temple of Virtue. It was 
planted on each side with laurels, which were intermixed with 
marble trophies, carved pillars, and statues of lawgivers, heroes, 
statesmen, philosophers, and poets. The persons who travelled 
up this great path, were such whose thoughts were bent upon 



132 1HE TATLER. [No. 12& 

doing eminent services to mankind, or promoting the good of 
their country. On each side of this great road were several 
paths, that were also laid out in straight lines, and ran parallel 
with it. These were most of them covered walks, and received 
into them men of retired virtue, who proposed to themselves the 
same end of their journey, though they chose to make it in shade 
and obscurity. The edifices at the extremity of the walk were 
so contrived, that we could not see the Temple of Honour by 
reason of the Temple of Virtue, which stood before it. At the 
gates of this temple we were met by the goddess of it, who con 
ducted us into that of Honour, which was joined to the other 
edifice by a beautiful triumphal arch, and had no other entrance 
into it. When the deity of the inner structure had received us, 
she presented us in a body to a figure that was placed over the 
high altar,Tind was the emblem of Eternity. She sat on a globe 
in the midst of a golden zodiac, holding the figure of a sun in 
in one hand, and a moon in the other. Her head was veiled, and 
her feet covered. Our hearts glowed within us as we stood 
amidst the sphere of light which this image cast on every side 
of it. 

Having seen all that happened to this band of adventurers, I 
repaired to another pile of building that stood within view of the 
Temple of Honour, and was raised in imitation of it, upon the 
very same model ; but at my approach to it, I found, that the 
stones were laid together without mortar, and the whole fabric 
stood upon so weak a foundation, that it shook with every wind 
that blew. This was called the Temple of Vanity. The goddess 
of it sat in the midst of a great many tapers, that burned day 
and night, and made her appear much better than she would 
have done in open day-light. Her whole art, was to show her- 
self more beautiful and majestic than she really was. For which 
reason, she had painted her face, and wore a cluster of false jewel? 



No. 123.] THE TATLER, 133 

upon her breast : but what I more particularly observed, was, 
the breadth of her petticoat, which was made altogether in the 
fashion of a modern fardingale. This place was filled with hypo- 
crites, pedants, free-thinkers, and prating politicians ; with a 
rabble of those who have only titles to make them great men. 
Female votaries crowded the temple, choaked up the avenues of 
it, and were more in number than the sand upon the sea-shore. 
I made it my business in my return towards that part of the 
wood from whence I first set out, to observe the walks which led 
to this temple ; for I met in it several who had begun their jour- 
ney with the band of virtuous persons, and travelled some time 
in their company : Vut, upon examination, I found that there 
were several paths which led out of the great road into the 
sides of the wood, and ran into so many crooked turns and wind- 
ings, that those who travelled through them often turned their 
backs upon the Temple of Virtue, then crossed the straight 
road, and sometimes marched in it for a little space, till the 
crooked path which they were engaged in, again led them into 
the wood. The several alleys of these wanderers had their par- 
ticular ornaments : one of them I could not but take notice of 
in the walk of the mischievous pretenders to politics, which had 
at every turn the figure of a person, whom by the inscription I 
found to be Machiavel, pointing out the way with an extended 
finger like a Mercury. 1 

I was jiow returned 3 in the same manner as before, with a 
design to observe carefully every thing that passed in the region 
of Avarice, and the occurrences in that assembly, which was made 
up of persons of my own age. This body of travellers had not 

1 Poor Machiavelli suffers even at the hands of Addison. For another 
view, v. Greene's Historical Studies — Machiavelli. — G-. 

a I was now returned. Return, in the sense of going bach, is a verb 
neuter The writer should, then, have said — " I had now returned." 



(34 THE TATLER. [No. 123. 

gone far in the third great road, before it led them insensibly 
into a deep valley, in which they journeyed several days with 
great toil and uneasiness, and without the necessary refreshments 
of food and sleep. The only relief they met with, was in a river 
that ran through the bottom of the valley on a bed of golden 
sand : they often drank of this stream, which had such a par 
ticular quality in it, that though it refreshed them for a time, it 
rather inflamed than quenched their thirst. On each side of 
thn river was a range of hills full of precious ore ; for where the 
rains had washed off the earth, one might see in several parts of 
them veins of gold, and rocks that looked like pure silver. We 
were told, that the deity of the place had forbade any of his vo- 
taries to dig into the bowels of these hills, or convert the trea- 
sures they contained to any use, under pain of starving. At the 
end of the valley, stood the Temple of Avarice, made after the 
manner of a fortification, and surrounded with a thousand triple- 
headed dogs, that were placed there to keep off beggars. At 
our approach they all fell a barking, and would have very much 
terrified us, had not an old woman, who had called herself by 
the forged name of Competency, offered herself for our guide. 
She carried under her garment a golden bough, which she no 
sooner held up in her hand, but the dogs lay down, and the gates 
flew open for our reception. We were led through an hundred 
iron doors, before we entered the temple. At the upper end of 
it sat the god of Avarice, with a long filthy beard, and a meagre 
starved countenance, enclosed with heaps of ingots and pyramids 
of money, but half naked and shivering with cold. On his right 
hand was a fiend called Rapine, and on his left a particular fa- 
vourite to whom he had given the title of Parsimony. The first 
was his collector, and the other his cashier. 

There were several long tables placed on each side of the 
temple, with respective officers attending behind them, Some 



A„. 123.] THE TATLER. 135 

of these I inquired into. At the first table was kept the office 
of Corruption. Seeing a solicitor extremely busy, and whispei 
ing every body that passed by, I kept my eye upon him very at- 
tentively, and saw him often going up to a person that had a pen 
in his hand, with a multiplication table and an almanack before 
him, which, as I afterwards heard, was all the learning he Was 
master of. The solicitor would often apply himself to his ear, 
and at the same time convey money into his hand, for which the 
other would give him out a piece of paper or parchment, signed 
and sealed in form. The name of this dextrous and successful 
solicitor was Bribery. At the next table was the office of Ex- 
tortion. Behind it sat a person in a bob-wig, counting over a 
great sum of money. He gave out little purses to several, who 
after a short tour, brought him in return, sacks full of the same 
kind of coin. I saw at the same time, a person called Fraud, 
who sat behind a counter with false scales, light weights, and 
scanty measures ; by the skilful application of which instruments, 
she had got together an immense heap of wealth. It would be 
endless to name the several officers, or describe the votaries that 
attended in this temple. There were many old men panting and 
breathless, reposing their heads on bags of money ; nay, many 
of them actually dying, whose very pangs and convulsions 
(which rendered their purses useless to them) only made them 
grasp the faster. There were some tearing with one hand all 
things, even to the garments and flesh of many miserable persons 
who stood before them, and with the other hand throwing away 
what they had seized, to harlots, flatterers, and panders, that 
stood behind them. 

On a sudden the whole assembly fell a trembling, and upon 
inquiry, I found, that the great room we were in was haunted 
with a spectre, that many times a day appeared to them, and 
terrified them to distraction. 



136 THE TATLER. [No. 123. 

In the midst of their terror and amazement, the apparition 
entered, which I immediately knew to be Poverty. Whether it 
were by my acquaintance with this phantom, which had rendered 
the sight of her more familiar to me, or, however it was, she did 
not make so indigent or frightful a figure in my eye, as the god 
of this loathsome temple. The miserable votaries of this place, 
were, I found, of another mind. Every one fancied himself 
threatened by the apparition as she stalked about the room, and 
began to lock their coffers, and tie their bags, with the utmost 
fear and trembling. 

I must confess, I look upon the passion which I saw in this 
unhappy people to be of the s^me nature with those unaccount- 
able antipathies which some persons are born with, or rather as 
a kind of phrenzy, not unlike that which throws a man into ter- 
rors and agonies at the sight of so useful and innocent a thing 
as water. The whole assembly was surprised, when, instead of 
paying my devotions to the deity whom they all adored, they saw 
me address myself to the phantom. 

" Oh Poverty ! (said I) my first petition to thee is, that thou 
wouldst never appear to me hereafter ; but if thou wilt not grant 
me this, that thou wouldst not bear a form more terrible than 
that in which thou appearest to me at present. Let not thy 
threats and menaces betray me to any thing that is ungrateful 
or unjust. Let me not shut my ears to the cries of the needy. 
Let me not forget the person that has deserved well of me. Let 
me not, for any fear of thee, desert my friend, my principles, or 
my honour. If Wealth is to visit me, and to come with her 
usual attendants, Vanity and Avarice, do thou, Oh Poverty I 
hasten to my rescue ; but bring along with thee the two sisters, 
in whose company thou art always cheerful, Liberty and In 
nocence. 

The conclusion of this vision must be deferred U another opportunity. 



No 131.] THE TATLER. 137 



No. 131. THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 1709. 

-Scelus est jugulare falermim, 



Et dare Campano toxica saeva mero. — Maet. 

Sheer-Lane, February 8. 
There is in this city a certain fraternity of chymical opera- 
tors, who work under ground in holes, caverns, and dark retire 
ments, to conceal their mysteries from the eyes and observation 
of mankind. These subterranean philosophers are daily employed 
in the transmigration of liquors, and, by the power of medical 
drugs and incantations, raising under the streets of London, the 
choicest products of the hills and valleys of France. They can 
squeeze Bourdeaux out of a sloe, and draw Champagne from an 
apple. Virgil, in that remarkable prophecy, 

Incultisque rubens pendebit Sentibus Uva. 
" The ripening grape shall hang on every thorn." 

seems to have hinted at this art, which can turn a plantation cf 
northern hedges into a vineyard. These adepts are known 
among one another by the name of wine-brewers, and I am afraid 
do great injury, not only to her majesty's customs, but to the 
bodies of many of her good subjects. 

Having received sundry complaints against these invisible 
workmen, I ordered the proper officer of my court to ferret them 
out of their respective caves, and bring them before me, which 
was yesterday executed accordingly. 

The person who appeared against them was a merchant, who 
had by him a great magazine of wines that he had laid in before 
the war : but these gentlemen (as he said) had so vitiated the na- 
tion's palate, that no man could believe his to be French, because 
it did not taste like what they sold for such. As a man never 
pleads better than where his own personal interest is concerned. 



138 THE TATLER. [No. 131. 

be exhibited to the court with great eloquence, That this new 
corporation of druggists had inflamed the bills of mortality, and 
puzzled the, college of physicians with diseases, for which they 
neither knew a name nor cure. He accused some of giving all their 
customers cholics and megrims ; and mentioned one who had 
boasted, he had a tun of claret by him, that in a fortnight's time 
should give the gout to a dozen of the healthfullest men in the city, 
provided that their constitutions were prepared for it by wealth 
and idleness. He then enlarged, with a great show of reason, upon 
the prejudice which these mixtures and compositions had done to 
the brains of the English nation ; as is too visible (said he) from 
many late pamphlets, speeches, and sermons, as well as from the 
ordinary conversations of the youth of this age. He then quoted 
an ingenious person, who would undertake to know by a man's writ- 
ings, the wine he most delighted in ; and on that occasion named 
a certain satirist, whom he had discovered to be the author of 
a lampoon, by a manifest taste of the sloe, which showed itself 
in it by much roughness, and little spirit. 

In the last place, he ascribed to the unnatural tumults and 
fermentations, which these mixtures raise in our blood, the divi- 
sions, heats, and animosities, that reign among us ; and in partic- 
ular, asserted most of the modern enthusiasms and agitations to 
be nothing else but the effects of adulterated port. 

The counsel for the brewers had a face so extremely inflamed 
and illuminated with carbuncles, that I did not wonder to see him 
an advocate for these, sophistications. His rhetoric was likewise 
such as I should have expected from the common draught, which 
I found he often drank to a great excess. Indeed, I was so sur- 
prised at his figure and parts, that I ordered him to give me a 
taste of his usual liquor ; which I had no sooner drank, but I found 
a pimple rising in my forehead ; and felt such a sensible decay in 



N"o. 13i.J THE TATLER 139 

my understanding, that I would not proceed in the trial till the 
fume of it was entirely dissipated. 

This notable advocate had little to say in the defence of his 
clients, but that they were under a necessity of making claret if 
they would keep open their doors, it being the nature of mankind 
to love every thing that is prohibited. He further pretended to 
reason, that it might be as profitable to the nation to make French 
wine as French hats ; and concluded with the great advantage 
that this had already brought to part of the kingdom. Upon 
which he imformed the court, ' That the lands in Herefordshire 
were raised two years purchase since the beginning of the war.' 

When I had sent out my summons to these people, I gave at 
the same time orders to each of them to bring the several ingre- 
dients he made use of in distinct phials, which they had done ac- 
cordingly, and ranged them into two rows on each side of the court. 
The workmen were drawn up in ranks behind them. The mer- 
chant informed me, that in one row of phials were the several 
colours they dealt in, and in the other the tastes. He then show- 
ed me on the right hand one who went by the name of Tom Tin 
toret, who (as he told me) was the greatest master in his colour- 
ing of any vintner in London. To give me a proof of his art, he 
took a glass of fair water ; and by the infusion of three drops out 
of one of his phials, converted it into a most beautiful pale Bur- 
gundy. Two more of the same kind heightened it into a perfect 
Languedoc: from thence it"' passed into a florid Hermitage : and 
after having gone through two or three other changes, by the ad- 
dition of a single drop, ended in a very deep Pontac. This in- 
genious virtuoso, seeing me very much surprised at his art, told 
me, That he had not an opportunity of showing it in perfection, 
having only made use of water for the ground work of his 
colouring: but that if I were to see an operation upon li- 
luors of stronger bodies, the art would appear to much greater 



140 THE TATLER. [No. 131 

advantage. He added, c That he doubted not but it would pleas*- 
my curiosity to see the cyder of one apple take only a vermillion 
when another, with a less quantity of the same infusion, would 
rise into a dark purple, according to the different texture of parts 
in the liquor.' He informed me also, ' That he could hit the dif- 
ferent shades and degrees of red, as they appear in the pink and 
the rose, the clove and the carnation, as he had Rhenish or Mo- 
selle, Perry or White Port, to work in.' 

I was so satisfied with the ingenuity of this virtuoso, that 
after having advised him to quit so dishonest a profession, I pro- 
mised him, in consideration of his great genius, to recommend 
him as a partner to a friend of mine, who has heaped up great 
riches, and is a scarlet dyer. 

The artists on my other hand were ordered in the second place 
to make some experiments of their skill before me : upon which 
the famous Harry Sippet stept out, and asked me, ' What I would 
be pleased to drink V At the same time he filled out three or 
four white liquors in a glass, and told me, ' That it should be what 
I pleased to call for ;' adding very learnedly, { That the liquor be- 
fore him was as the naked substance or first matter of his com- 
pound, to which he and his friend, who stood over against him, 
could give what accidents or form they pleased.' Finding him so 
great a philosopher, I desired he would convey into it the qualities 
and essence of right Bordeaux. { Coming, coming, sir,' (said he, 
with the air of a drawer ;) and after having cast his eye on the 
several tastes and flavours that stood before him, he took up a lit- 
tle cruet that was filled with a kind of inky juice, and pouring 
some of it out into the glass of white wine, presented it to me, 
and told me, ' This was the wine over which most of the business 
of the last term had been dispatched.' I must confess, I looked 
upon that sooty drug which he held up in his cruet, as the quint 
essence of English Bourdeaux, and therefore desired him to give 



No. 131.] THE TATLER. 141 

me a glass of it by itself, which he did with great unwillingness. 
My cat at that time sat by me, upon the elbow of my chair ; and as 
I did not care for making the experiment upon myself, I reached 
it to her to sip of it, which had like to have cost her her life ; for 
notwithstanding it flung her at first into freakish tricks, quite con 
trary to her usual gravity, in less than a quarter of an hour she 
fell into convulsions ; and had it not been a creature more tena- 
cious of life than any other, would certainly have died under the 
operation. 

I was so incensed by the tortures of my innocent domestic, 
and the unworthy dealings of these men, that I told them, if each 
of them had as many lives as the injured creature before them, 
they deserved to forfeit them for the pernicious arts which they 
used for their profit. I therefore bid them look upon themselves 
as no better than a kind of assassins and murderers within the 
law. However, since they had dealt so clearly with me, and 
laid before me their whole practice, I dismissed them for that 
time ; with a particular request, That they would not poison any 
di my friends and acquaintance, and take to some honest livelihood 
without loss of time. 

For my own part, I have resolved hereafter to be very careful 
in my liquors, and have agreed with a friend of mine in the army, 
upon their next march, to secure me two hogsheads of the best 
stomach-wine in the cellars of Versailles, for the good of my lu- 
cubrations, ai 1 the comfort of my old age. 



142 THE TATLER. [Nb. 188 

No. 133. TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 14, 1709. 

Dum tacent, clamant — Tult. 

Sheer-Lane, February 13. 
Silen.e is sometimes more significant and sublime than the 
most noble and expressive eloquence, and is on many occasions 
the indication of a great mind. Several authors have treated of 
silence as a part of duty and discretion, but none of them have 
considered it in this light. Homer compares the noise and clam- 
our of the Trojans advancing towards the enemy, to the cackling 
of cranes when they invade an army of pigmies. On the con- 
trary, he makes his countrymen and favourites, the Greeks, move 
forward in a regular determined march, and in the depth of 
sileiice. I find, in the accounts which are given us of some of 
the more Eastern nations, where the inhabitants are disposed by 
their constitutions and climates to higher strains of thought, and 
more elevated raptures than what we feel in the Northern regions 
of the world, that silence is a religious exercise among them. For 
when their public devotions are in the greatest fervour, and their 
hearts lifted up as high as words can raise them, there are certain 
suspensions of sound and motion for a time, in which the mind 
is left to itself, and supposed to swell with such secret concep- 
tions as are too big for utterance. I have myself been wonder- 
fully delighted with a master-piece of music, when in the very 
tumult and ferment of their harmony, all the voices and instru- 
ments have stopped short on a sudden, and after a little pause 
recovered themselves again as it were, and renewed the concert 
in all its parts. Methoughts this short interval of silence has 
had more music in it than any the same space of time before or 
after it. There are two instances of silence in the two greatest 
poets that ever wrote, which have something in them as sublime 
as any of the speeches in their whole works. The first is that of 



No. 133.] THE TATLER, 143 

Ajax, in the eleventh book of the Odyssey. Ulysses, who had 
been the rival of this great man in his life, as well as the occasion 
of his death, upon meeting his shade in the regions of departed 
heroes, makes his submission to him with an humility next to 
adoration, which the other passes over with dumb sullen majesty, 
and such a silence, as (to use the words of Longinus.) had more 
greatness in it than any thing he could have spoken. 

The next instance I shall mention is in Yirgil, where the poet, 
doubtless, imitates this silence of Ajax in that of Dido ; though 
I do not know that any of his commentators have taken notice of 
it. iEneas, finding, among the shades of despairing lovers, the 
ghost of her who had lately died for him, with the wound still 
fresh upon her, addresses himself to her with expanded arms, 
floods of tears, and the most passionate professions of his own 
innocence as to what had happened ; all which Dido receives with 
the dignity and disdain of a resenting lover, and an injured 
queen ; and is so far from vouchsafing him an answer, that she 
does not give him a single look. The poet represents her as 
turning away her face from him while he spoke to her ; and after 
having kept her eyes for some time upon the ground, as one that 
heard and contemned his protestations, flying from him into the 
grove of myrtle, and into the arms of another, whose fidelity had 
deserved her love. 

I have often thought our writers of tragedy have been very 
defective in this particular, and that they might have given great- 
er beauty to their works, by certain stops and pauses in the rep- 
resentation of such passions, as it is not in the power of lan- 
guage to express. There is something like this in the last act of 
Venice Preserved, where Pierre is brought to an infamous execu- 
tion, and begs of his friend, as a reparation for past injuries, and 
the only favour he could do him, to rescue him from the ignominy 
of the wheel, by stabbing him. As he is going to make thi<? 



144 THE TATLEE. [No. 133. 

dreadful request, he is not able to communicate it, but withdraws 
his face from Ms friend's ear, and bursts into tears. The melan- 
choly silence that follows hereupon, and continues till he has re- 
covered himself enough to reveal his mind to his friend, raises 
in the spectators a grief that is inexpressible, and an idea of such 
a complicated distress in the actor as words cannot utter. It 
would look as ridiculous to many readers to give rules and direc- 
tions for proper silences, as for ' penning a whisper ;' but it is 
certain, that in the extremity of most passions, particularly sur- 
prise, admiration, astonishment, nay, rage itself, there is nothing 
more graceful than to see the play stand for a few moments, and 
tho audience fixed in an agreeable suspense during the silence of 
i skilful actor. 

But silence never shows itself to so great an advantage, as 
when it is made the reply to calumny and defamation, provided 
that we give no just occasion for thr,in. We might produce an 
example of it in the behaviour of one in whom it appeared in all 
its majesty, and one whose silence, as well as his person, was alto- 
gether divine. When one considers this subject only in its sub- 
limity, this great instance could not but occur to me ; and since 
I only make use of it to show the highest example of it, I hope 
I do not offend in it. To forbear replying to an unjust reproach, 
and overlook it with a generous, or (if possible) with an entire 
neglect of it, is one of the most heroic acts of a great mind. 
And I must confess, when I reflect upon the behaviour of some 
of the greatest men of antiquity, I do not so much admire them 
that they deserve the praise of the whole age they lived in, as 
because they contemned the envy and detraction of it. 
/ All that is incumbent on a man of worth, who suffers under 
so ill a treatment, is to lie by for some time in silence and obscuri- 
ty, till the prejudice of the times be over, and his reputation 
cleared. I have often read, with a great deal of pleasure, a 



No. 146.] THE TATLER. 145 

legacy of the famous Lord Bacon, one of the greatest geniuses 
that our own or any country has produced : after having be- 
queathed his soul, body, and estate, in the usual form, he adds, 
" My name and memory I leave to foreign nations, and to my 
countrymen, after some time be passed over." 

At the same time that I recommend this philosophy to others, 
I must confess, I am so poor a proficient in it myself, that if in 
the course of my lucubrations it happens, as it has done more 
than once, that my paper is duller than in conscience it ought to 
be, I think the time an age till I have an opportunity of putting 
out another, and growing famous again for two days. 

I must not close my discourse upon silence, without inform- 
ing my reader, that I have by me an elaborate treatise on the 
aposiopesis called an Et caterer,, it being a figure much used by 
some learned authors, and particularly by the great Littleton, 
who, as my Lord Chief Justice Coke observes, had a most 
admirable talent at an fyc. 



No. 146. THURSDAY, MARCH 16, 1709. 

Permittes ipeis expendere numinibus, quid 
Conveniat nobis, rebusque sit utile nostris. 
Nam pro jncundis aptissima quceque dabunt DiL 
Charior est illis homo, quam sibi. Nos animorum 
' Impulsu et coeca magnaque cupidine ducti 
Conjugium petimus, partumque uxoris ; at illis 
Notum, qui pueri, qualisque futura sit uxor. Juv 

From my own Apartment, March 15. 
Among the various sets of correspondents who apply to me 
for advice, and send up their cases from all parts of Great Brit- 
ain, there are none who are more importunate with me, and whom 
I am more inclined to answer, than the Complainers. One cf 
vol. iv. — 7 



146 THE TATLER. [No. 146 

them dates his letter to me from the banks of a purling stream, 
where he used to ruminate in solitude upon the divine Clarissa, 
and where he is now looking about for a convenient leap, which 
he tells me he is resolved to take, unless I support him under 
the loss of that charming perjured woman. Poor Lavinia presses 
as much for consolation on the other side, and is reduced to such 
an extremity of despair by the inconstancy of Philander, that 
she tells me she writes her letter with her pen in one hand, and 
her garter in the other. A gentleman of an ancient family in 
Norfolk is almost out of his wits upon account of a greyhound, 
that, after having been his inseparable companion for ten years, 
is at last run mad. Another (who I believe is serious,) com- 
plains to me. in a very moving manner, of the loss of a wife ; 
and another, in terms still more moving, of a purse of money 
that was taken from him on Bagshot Heath, and which, he tells 
me, would not have troubled him if he had given it to the poor. 
In short, there is scarce a calamity in human life that has not 
produced me a letter. 

It is, indeed, wonderful to consider, how men are able to raise 
affliction to themselves out of every thing. Lands and houses, 
sheep and oxen, can convey happiness and misery into the hearts 
of reasonable creatures. Nay, I have known a muff, a scarf, or 
a tippet, become a solid blessing or misfortune. A lap-dog has 
broke the hearts of thousands. Flavia, who had buried five 
children, and two husbands, was never able to get over the loss 
of her parrot. How often has a divine creature been thrown 
into a fit, by a neglect at a ball, or an assembly ? Mopsa has 
kept her chamber ever since the last masquerade, and is in greater 
danger of her life upon being left out of it, than Clarinda from 
the violent cold which she caught at it. Nor are these dear 
creatures the only sufferers by such imaginary calamities ; many 
an author has been dejected at the censure of one whom he ever 



No. 146. J THE TATLER. 147 

looked upon as an ideot; and many a hero cast into a fit of 
melancholy, because the rabble have not hooted at him as he 
passed through the streets. Theron places all his happiness in 
a running horse, Suffenus in a gilded chariot, Fulvius in a blue 
string, and Florio in a tulip-root. It would be endless to enume- 
rate the many fantastical afflictions that disturb mankind ; but 
as a misery is not to be measured from the nature of the evil, 
but from the temper of the sufferer, I shall present my readers, 
who are unhappy either in reality or imagination, with an alle- 
gory, for which I am indebted to the great father and prince of 
poets. 

As I was sitting after dinner in my elbow chair, I took up 
Homer, and dipped into that famous speech of Achilles to Priam, 
in which he tells him, that Jupiter has by him two great vessels 
the one filled with blessings, and the other with misfortunes ; out 
of which he mingles a composition for every man that comes into 
the world. This passage so exceedingly pleased me, that as I 
fell insensibly into my afternoon's slumber, it wrought my imagi- 
nation into the following dream. 

When Jupiter took into his hands the government of the 
world, the several parts of nature, with the presiding deities, did 
homage to him. One presented him with a mountain of winds, 
another with a magazine of hail, and a third with a pile of thun- 
der-bolts. The stars offered up their influences, the ocean gave 
in his trident, the earth her fruits, and the sun his seasons. 
Among the several deities who came to make their court on this 
occasion, the Destinies advanced with two great tuns carried be- 
fore them, one of which they fixed at the right hand of Jupiter 
as he sat upon his throne, and the other on his left. The first 
was filled with all the blessings, and the other with all the calam- 
ities of human "ife. Jupiter, in the beginning of his reign, 
finding the world nuch more innocent than it is in this iron age, 



148 THE TATLEB. [No. 146. 

poured very plentifully out of the tun that stood at his right 
hand ; but as mankind degenerated, and became unworthy of his 
blessings, he set abroach the other vessel, that filled the world 
with pain and poverty, battles and distempers, jealousy and false- 
hood, intoxicating pleasures and untimely deaths. 

He was at length so very much incensed at the great depra- 
vation of human nature, and the repeated provocations which he 
received from all parts of the earth, that having resolved to de- 
stroy the whole species, except Deucalion and Fyrrha, he com- 
manded the destinies to gather up the blessings which he had 
thrown away upon the sons of men, and lay them up till the 
world should be inhabited by a more virtuous and deserving race 
of mortals. 

The three sisters immediately repaired to the earth, in search 
of the several blessings that had been scattered on it ; but found 
the task which was enjoined them, to be much more difficult than 
they had imagined. The first places they resorted to, as the most 
likely to succeed in, were cities, palaces, and courts ; but instead 
of meeting with what they looked for here, they found nothing 
but envy, repining, uneasiness, and the like bitter ingredients of 
the left-hand vessel. Whereas, to their great surprise, they dis- 
covered content, cheerfulness, health, innocence, and other the 
most substantial blessings of life, in cottages, shades, and solitudes. 

There was another circumstance no less unexpected than the 
former, and which gave them very great perplexity in the dis- 
charge of the trust which Jupiter had committed to them. They 
observed, that several blessings had degenerated into calamities, 
and that several calamities had improved into blessings, accord- 
ing as they fell into the possession of wise or foolish men. They 
often found power with so much insolence and impatience cleav- 
ing to it, that it became a misfortune to the person on whom it 
was conferred. Youth had often distempers growing about it 



No. 146.] THETATLER. 149 

worse than the infirmities of old age : wealth was often united to 
such a sordid avarice, as made it the most uncomfortable and 
painful kind of poverty. On the contrary, they often found pain 
made glorious by fortitude, poverty lost in content, deformity 
beautified with virtue. In a word, the blessings were often like 
good fruits planted in a bad soil, that by degrees fall off from 
their natural relish, into tastes altogether insipid or unwholesome ; 
and the calamities, like harsh fruits, cultivated in a good soil, and 
enriched by proper grafts and inoculations, till they swell with 
generous and delightful juices. 

There was still a third circumstance that occasioned as great 
a surprise to the three sisters as either of the foregoing, when 
they discovered several .blessings and calamities which had never 
been in either of the tuns that stood by the throne of Jupiter, and 
were nevertheless as great occasions of happiness or misery as 
any there. These were that spurious crop of blessings and ca- 
lamities which were never sown by the hand of the Deity, but 
grow of themselves out of the fancies and dispositions of human 
creatures. Such are dress, titles, place, equipage, false shame, 
and groundless fear, with the like vain imaginations that shoot up 
in trifling, weak, and irresolute minds. 

The destinies finding themselves in so great a perplexity, con- 
cluded, that it would be impossible for them to execute the com- 
mands that had been given them according to their first intention; 
for which reason they agreed to throw all the blessings and 
calamities together in one large vessel, and in that manner offer 
them up at the feet of Jupiter. 

This was performed accordingly, the eldest sister presenting 
herself before the vessel, and introducing it with an apology for 
what they had done. 

' Jupiter ! (says she) we have gathered together all the 
good and evil, the comforts and distresses of human Afe, which 



150 THE "ATLER. [No. 147. 

we thus present before thee in one promiscuous heap. We be- 
seech thee that thou thyself wilt sort them out for the future, as 
in thy wisdom thou shalt think fit. For we acknowledge, that 
there is none beside thee that can judge what will occasion grief 
or joy in the heart of a human creature, and what will prove a 
blessing or a calamity to the person on whom it is bestowed.' 



No. 147. SATURDAY, MARCH 18, 1709. 

Ut ameris amabilis esto. — Ovn>. 

From my own Apartment, March 18. 

Reading is to the mind, what exercise is to the body f As by 
the one, health is preserved, strengthened, and invigorated ; by 
the other, virtue (which is the health of the mind) is kept alive, 
cherished, and confirmed. But as exercise becomes tedious and 
painful when we make use of it only as the means of health, so 
reading is apt to grow uneasy and burthensome, when we apply 
ourselves to it only for our improvement in virtue. For this 
reason, the virtue which we gather from a fable, or an allegory, 
is like the health we get by hunting ; as we are engaged in an 
agreeable pursuit that draws us on with pleasure, and makes us 
insensible of the fatigues that accompany it. 

After this preface, I shall set down a very beautiful allego- 
rical fable of the great poet whom I mentioned in my last paper, 
and whom it is very difficult to lay aside when one is engaged in 
the reading of him : and this I particularly design for the use of 
several of my fair correspondents, who in their letters have com- 
plained to me, that tlifty have lost the affections of their husbands, 
and desire my advice how to recover them. 

Juno, says Homer, seeing her Jupiter seated on the top of 



No. 14*7.] THE TATLER. 15 i 

Mount Ida, and knowing that he conceived an aversion to her, 
began to study how she should regain his affections, and mako 
herself amiable to him. With this thought she immediately re 
tired into her chamber, where she bathed herself in ambrosia, 
which gave her person all its beauty, and diffused so divine an 
odour, as refreshed all nature, and sweetened both heaven and 
earth. She let her immortal tresses flow in the most graceful 
manner, and took a particular care to dress herself in several 
ornaments, which the poet describes at length, and which the god- 
dess chose out as the most proper to set off her person to the 
best advantage. In the next place, she made a visit to Venus, 
the deity who presides over love, and begged of her, as a particu- 
lar favour, that she would lend her for a while those charms with 
which she subdued the hearts both of gods and men. For, says 
the goddess, I would make use of them to reconcile the two dei- 
ties, who took care of me in my infancy, and who, at present, are 
at so great a variance, that they are estranged from each other's 
bed. Venus was proud of an opportunity of obliging so great a 
goddess, and therefore made her a present of the cestus which 
she used to wear about her own waist, with advice to hide it in 
ber bosom, till she had accomplished her intention. This cestas 
was a fine party-coloured girdle, which, as Homer tells us, had all 
the attractions of the sex wrought into it. The four principal 
figures in the embroidery were love, desire, fondness of speech, 
and conversation, filled with that sweetness and complacency 
which, says the poet, insensibly steal away the hearts of the 
wisest men. 

Juno, after having made these necessary preparations, came 
as by accident into the presence of Jupiter, who is said to have 
been as much inflamed with her beauty, as when he first stole to 
her embraces without the consent of their parents. Juno, to 
cover her real thoughts, told him, as she had told Venus, that she 



152 THE T1TLER. [No. 147. 

was going to make a visit to Oceanus and Tethys. He prevailed 
upon her to stay with him, protesting to her, that she appeared 
more amiable in his eye, than ever any mortal, goddess, or even 
herself, had appeared to him till that day. The poet then repre- 
sents him in so great an ardour, that (without going up to the 
house which had been built by the hands of Vulcan, according 
to Juno a direction) he threw a golden cloud over their heads as 
they sat upon the top of Mount Ida, while the earth beneath 
them sprung up in lotuses, saffrons, hyacinths, and a bed of the 
softest flowers for their repose. 

This close translation of one of the finest passages in Homer, 
may suggest abundance of instruction to a woman who has a 
mind to preserve or recal the affection of her husband. The 
care of the person, and the dress, with the particular blandish- 
ments woven in the cestus, are so plainly recommended by this 
fable, and so indispensably necessary in every female who desires 
to please, that they need no further explanation. The discretion 
likewise in covering all matrimonial quarrels from the knowledge 
of others, is taught in the pretended visit to Tethys, in the speech 
where Juno addresses herself to Yenus ; as the chaste and pru- 
dent management of a wife's ' charms is intimated by the same 
pretence for her appearing before Jupiter, and by the conceal- 
ment of the cestus in her bosom. 

I shall leave this tale to the consideration of such good house- 
wives who are never well dressed but when they are abroad, and 
think it necessary to appear more agreeable to all men living 
than their husbands : as also to those prudent ladies, who, to 
avoid the appearance of being over-fond, entertain their husbands 
with indifference, aversion sullen silence, or exasperating Ian 
guage. 



NC.147.J . THE TATLER. 1 "3 

Sheer-Lane, March 17. 

Upon my coming home last night, I found a very handsome 
present of wine left for me, as a taste of 216 hogsheads which 
are to be put to sale at 20/. a hogshead, at Garraway's Coffee- 
house, in Exchange- Alley, on the 22d instant, at three in the af- 
ternoon, and to be tasted in Major Long's vaults from the 20th 
instant till the time of sale. 1 This having been sent to me with 
a desire that I would give my judgment upon it, I immediately 
impannelled a jury of men of nice palates and strong heads, who 
being all of them very scrupulous, and unwilling to proceed rash- 
ly in a matter of so great importance, refused to bring in their 
verdict till three in the morning ; at which time the foreman pro- 
nounced as well as he was able, Extra — a — ordinary French 
claret. For my own part, as I love to consult my pillow in all 
points of moment, I slept upon it before I would give my sen- 
tence, and this morning confirmed the verdict. 

Having mentioned this tribute of wine, I must give notice to 
my correspondents for the future, who shall apply to me on this 
occasion, that as I shall decide nothing unadvisedly in matters of 
this nature, I cannot pretend to give judgment of a right good 
liquor, without examining at least three dozen bottles of it. I 
must at the same time do myself the justice to let the world know 
that I have resisted great temptations in this kind ; as it is well 
known to a butcher in Clare-Market, who endeavored to corrupt 
me with a dozen and a half of marrow-bones. 2 I had likewise a 
bribe sent me by a fishmonger, consisting of a collar of brawn, 
and a jole of salmon ; but not finding them excellent in their 
kinds, I had the integrity to eat them both up without speaking 
one word of them. However, for the future, I shall have an ey6 

1 The original ed. of No. 145 of the Tatler contains an advertisement of 
this sale of claret. — G. 

2 V. No. 162, paragraph 1.— G. 

vol. iv. — 7* 



154 THE TATLER. [No. 148. 

to the diet of this great city, and will recommend the best and 
most wholesome food to them, if I receive these pioper and re- 
spectful notices from the sellers, that it may not be said hereafter, 
my readers were better taught than fed. 



No. 148. TUESDAY, MARCH 21, 1709. 

Gustus elementa per omnia quserunt, 

Nunquam animo pretiis obstantibus.— Jtrv. 

From my own Apart?nent, March 20. 
Having intimated in my last paper that I design to take un- 
der my inspection the diet of this great city, I shall begin with a 
very earnest and serious exhortation to all my well-disposed read- 
ers, that they would return to the food of their forefathers, and 
reconcile themselves to beef and mutton. 1 This was the diet 
which bred that hardy race of mortals, who won the fields of 
Cressy and Agincourt. I need not go up so high as the history 
of G-uy Earl of Warwick, who is well known to have eaten up a 
dun cow of his own killing. 2 The renowned King Arthur is gen- 
erally looked upon as the first who ever sat down to a whole 
roasted ox (which was certainly the best way to preserve the 
gravy;) and it is further added, that he and his knights sat about 
it at his round table, and usually consumed it to the very bones 
before they would enter upon any debate of moment. The Black 
Prince was a professed lover of the brisket ; not to mention the 
history of the sirloin, or the institution of the order of beef-eaters, 
which are all so many evident and undeniable marks of the great 
respect which our warlike predecessors have paid to this excellent 
food. The tables of the ancient gentry of this nation were cov- 

1 V. No. 162. 2 V. Nichols's note ad Ioc. 



No.148.] THE TATLER. i55 

ered thrice a day with hot roast beef; and I am credit; /y inform- 
ed by an antiquary who has searched the registers in which the 
bills of fare of the court are recorded, that instead of tea and 
bread and butter, which have prevailed of late years, the maids 
of honour in Queen Elizabeth's time were allowed three rumps 
of beef for their breakfast. Mutton has likewise been in great 
repute among our valiant countrymen, but was formerly observ- 
ed to be the food rather of men of nice and delicate appetites, 
than those of strong and robust constitutions. For which reason, 
even to this day, we use the word sheep-biter as a term of re- 
proach, as we do a beef-eater in a respectful and honourable sense. 
As for the flesh of lamb, veal, chicken, and other animals under 
age, they were the invention of sickly and degenerate palates, ac- 
cording to that wholesome remark of Daniel the historian, who 
takes notice, that in all taxes upon provisions, during the 
reigns of several of our kings, there is nothing mentioned besides 
the flesh of such fowl and cattle as were arrived at their full 
growth, and were mature for slaughter. The common people of 
this kingdom do still keep up the taste of their ancestors ; and it 
is to this that we in a great measure owe the unparalleled 
victories that have been gained in this reign : for I would desire 
my reader to consider, what work our countrymen would have 
made at Blenheim and Ramillies, if they had been fed on fricacies 
and ragouts. 

For this reason we at present see the florid complexion, the 
strong limb, and the hale constitution, are to be found chiefly 
among the meaner sort of people, or in the wild gentry, who have 
been educated among the woods and mountains : whereas many 
great families are insensibly fallen off from the athletic constitu- 
tion of their progenitors, and are dwindled away into a pale, 
sickly, spindle-legged generation of valetudinarians. 

I may perhaps be thought extravagant in my notion ; but I 



.56 THE TATLER. [No 148 

must confess, I am apt to impute the dishonours that sometime* 
happen in great families to the inflaming kind of diet which is so 
much in fashion. Many dishes can excite desire without giving 
strength, and heat the body without nourishing it : as physicians 
observe, that the poorest and most dispirited blood is most sub- 
ject to fevers. I look upon a French ragout to be as pernicious 
to the stomach as a glass of spirits ; and when I have seen a 
young lady swallow all the instigations of high soups, seasoned 
sauces, and forced meats, I have wondered at the despair or tedious 
sighing of her lovers. 

The rules among these false delicates, are to be as contradic- 
tory as they can be to nature. 

Without expecting the return of hunger, they eat for appetite, 
and prepare dishes not to allay, but to excite it. 

They admit of nothing at their tables in its natural form, or 
without some disguise. 

They are are to eat every thing before it comes in season, and 
to leave it off as soon as it is good to be eaten. 

They are not to approve any thing that is agreeable to ordi- 
nary palates ; and nothing is to gratify their senses, but what 
would offend' those of their inferiors. 

I remember I was last summer invited to a friend's house, 
who is a great admirer of the French cookery, and (as the phrase 
is) ' eats -well.' At our sitting down, I found the table covered 
with a great variety of unknown dishes. I was mightily at a loss 
to learn what they were, and therefore did not know where to 
help myself. That which stood before me I took to be a roast- 
ed porcupine, however, did not care for asking questions ; and 
have since been informed, that it was only a larded turkey. I 
afterwards passed my eye over several hashes, which I do not 
know the names of to this day ; and hearing that they were deli- 
cacies, did not think fit to meddle with them. 



S° 148.] THE TATLER. 157 

Among other dainties, I saw something like a pheasant, and 
therefore desired to be helped to a wing of it, but to mj great 
surprise, my friend told me it was a rabbit, which is a sort of 
meat I never cared for. At last I discovered, with some joy, a pig 
at the lower end of the table, and begged a gentleman that was 
near it to cut me a piece of it. Upon which the gentleman of the 
house said, with great civility, I am sure you will like the pig, 
for it was whipped to death. I must confess, I heard him with 
horror, and could not eat of an animal that had died such a tra- 
gical death : I was now in great hunger and confusion, when, me- 
thought, I smelled the agreeable savour of roast-beef, but could 
not tell from which dish it arose, though I did not question but 
it lay disguised in one of them. Upon turning my head, I saw a 
noble sirloin on the side-table, smoking in the most delicious 
manner. I had recourse to it more than once, and could not see, 
without some indignation, that substantial English dish ban- 
ished in so ignominious a manner, to make way for French kick- 
shaws. 

The desert was brought up at last, which, in truth, was as 
extraordinary as any thing that had come before it. The whole, 
when ranged in its proper order, looked like a very beautiful 
winter-piece. There were several pyramids of candied sweet- 
meats, that hung like icicles, with fruits scattered up and down, 
and hid in an artificial kind of frost. At the same time, there 
Were great quantities of cream beaten up into a snow, and near 
them little plates of sugar-plumbs, disposed like so many heaps 
of hail-stones, with a multitude of congelations in jellies of vari- 
ous colours. I was indeed so pleased with the several objects 
which lay before me, that I did not care for displacing any of 
them, and was half angry with the rest of the company, that for 
the sake of a piece of lemon-peel, or a sugar-plumb, would spoil 
so pleasing a picture. Indeed, I could not but smile to see 



158 THE TATLER. [No. 148. 

several of them cooling their mouths with lumps of ice, which 
the j had just before been burning with salts and peppers. 

As soon as this show was over I took my leave, that I might 
finish my dinner at my own house : for as I in every thing love 
what is simple and natural, so particularly in my food ; two plain 
dishes, with two or three good-natured, cheerful, ingenious 
friends, would make me more pleased and vain, than all that 
pomp and luxury can bestow. For it is my maxim, ' That he 
keeps the greatest table, wlio has the most valuable company 
at it.' 



No. 152. THURSDAY, MARCH 30, 1710. 

Dii, quibus Imperinm est animarum, umbrseque silentes, 
Et Chaos, et Phlegethon, loca nocte silentia late, 
Sit mihi fas audita loqni, sitnurnine vestro 
Pandere res alta terra et caligine mersas. — Vikg. 

From my own Apartment, March 29. 

A man who confines his speculations to the time present, has 
but a very narrow province to employ his thoughts in. For this 
reason, persons of studious and contemplative natures often en- 
tertain themselves with the history of past ages, or raise schemes 
and conjectures upon futurity. For my own part, I love to 
range through that half of eternity which is still to come, rather 
than look on that which is already run out ; because I know I 
have a real share and interest in the one, whereas all that was 
transacted in the other can be only matter of curiosity to me. 

Upon this account, I have been always very much delighted 
,vith meditating on the soul's immortality, and in reading the 
3everal notions a which the wisest of men, both ancient and 

* In reading the several notions. We do not read notions, but the b*v,ka 
which contain them. The proper word is — " observing, contm plating, ' or 
some such participle, expressing an act of the mind upon its ideas. 



Wo - 152 ] THE TATLER. [5y 

modern, have entertained on that subject. Wnat the opinions of 
the greatest philosophers have been, I have several times hinted 
at, and shall give an account of them from time to time as occa- 
sion requires. It may likewise be worth while to consider, what 
men of the most exalted genius, and elevated imagination, have 
thought of this matter. Among these, Homer stands up as a 
prodigy of mankind, that looks down upon the rest of human 
creatures as a species beneath him. Since he is the most ancient 
heathen author, we may guess from his relation, what were the 
common opinions in his time concerning the state of the soul 
after death. 

Ulysses, he tells us, made a voyage to the regions of the 
dead, in order to consult Tiresias how he should return to his 
own country, and recommend himself to the favour of the gods. 
The poet scarce introduces a single person, who doth not suggest 
some useful precept to his reader, and designs a his description 
of the dead for the amendment of the living. 

Ulysses, after having made a very plenteous sacrifice, sat him 
down by the pool of Holy Blood, which attracted a prodigious 
assembly of ghosts of all ages and conditions, that hovered about 
the hero, and feasted upon the steams of his oblation. The first 
he knew, was the shade of Elpenor, who, to show the activity of 
a spirit above that of body, is represented as arrived there long 
before Ulysses, notwithstanding the winds and seas had con- 
tributed all their force to hasten his voyage thither. This El- 
penor, to inspire the reader with a detestation of drunkenness, 
and at the same time with a religious care of doing proper hon- 
ours to the dead ; describes himself as having broken his neck in 
a debauch of wine : and begs Ulysses, that for the repose of his 

* Scarce introduces — and designs. The two parts of this sentence do not 
connect properly. He should have expressed himself in some such way aa 
this: — "He makes almost every person, whom he introduces, suggest — and 
designs," &g. 



160 THE TATLER, [No. 152. 

soul, he would build a monument over him, and perform funeral 
rites to his memory. Ulysses with great sorrow of heart pro- 
mises to fulfil his request, and is immediately diverted to an ob- 
ject much more moving than the former. The ghost of his own 
mother Anticlea, whom he still thought living, appears to him 
among the multitude of shades that surrounded him, and sits 
down at a small distance from him by the Lake of Blood, with- 
out speaking to him, or knowing who he was. Ulysses was ex- 
ceedingly troubled at the sight, and could not forbear weeping as 
he looked upon her : but being all along set forth as a pattern of 
consummate wisdom, he makes his affection give way to pru- 
dence; and therefore, upon his seeing Tiresias, does not reveal 
himself to his mother, till he had consulted that great prophet, 
who was the occasion of this his descent into the empire of 
the dead Tiresias having cautioned him to keep himself and 
his companions free from the guilt of sacrilege, and to pay hi? 
devotions to all the gods, promises him a return to his kingdom 
and family, and a happy old age in the enjoyment of them. 

The poet having thus with great art kept the curiosity of his 
reader in suspense, represents his wise man, after the dispatch 
of his business with Tiresias, as yielding himself up to the calls 
of natural affection, and making himself known to his mother. 
Her eyes are no sooner opened, but she cries out in tears, ' Oh 
my son ! ' and inquires into the occasion that brought him thither, 
and the fortune that attended him. 

Ulysses on the other hand desires to know, what the sickness 
was that had sent her into those regions, and the condition in 
which she had left his father, his son, and more particularly his 
wife. She tells him, they were all three inconsolable for his ab- 
sence. ' And as for myself, (says she) that was the sickness of 
which I died. My impatience for your return, my anxiety for 
your welfare, and my fondness for my dear Ulysses, were the only 



-No. 15a, THETATLER. 16, 

distempers that preyed upon my life, and separated my soul from 
my body.' Ulysses was melted with these expressions of tender- 
ness, and thrice endeavoured to catch the apparition in his 
arms, that he might hold his mother to his bosom and weep over 
her. 

This gives the poet occasion to describe the notion the Hea 
thens at that time had of an unbodied soul, in the excuse which 
the mother makes for seeming to withdraw herself from her son's 
embraces. l The soul, (says she,) is composed neither of bones, 
flesh, nor sinews, but leaves behind her all those incumbrances of 
mortality to be consumed on the funeral pile. As soon as she 
has thus cast her burthen, she makes her escape, and flies away 
from it like a dream.' 

When this melancholy conversation is at an end, the poe* 
draws up to view as charming a vision as could enter into man t 
imagination. He describes the next who appeared to Ulysses 
to have been ihe shades of the finest women that had ever lived 
upon the earth, and who had either been the daughters of kings 
the mistresses of gods, or mothers of heroes ; such as Antiope, 
Alcmena, Leda, Ariadne, Iphimedia, Eriphyle, and several 
others of whom he gives a catalogue, with a short history of their 
adventures. The beautiful assembly of apparitions were all 
gathered together about the blood : ' Each of them (says Ulysses. 
as a gentle satire upon female vanity,) giving me an account of 
her birth and family.' This scene of extraordinary women seems 
to have been designed by the poet as a lecture of mortality to the 
whole sex, and to put them in mind of what they must expect, 
notwithstanding the greatest perfections, and highest honours 
txiey can arrive at. 

The circle of beauties at length disappeared, and was sue- 
ceeded by the shades of several Grecian heroes, who had been eD 
gaged with Ulysses in the siege of Troy. The first that ap- 



L62 THE TATLER. [No. 152 

proached was Agamemnon, the generalissimo* cf that great ex- 
pedition, who at the appearance of his old friend wept very bit- 
terly, and without saying any thing to him, endeavoured to grasp 
him by the hand. Ulysses, who was much moved at the sight, 
poured out a flood of tears, and asked him the occasion of his 
death, which Agamemnon related to him in all its tragical cir- 
cumstances ; how he was murdered at a banquet by the contri 
vance of his own wife, in confederacy with her adulterer : from 
whence he takes occasion to reproach the whole sex, after a manner 
which would be inexcusable in a man who had not been so great 
a sufferer by them. ' My wife (says he) has disgraced all the wo- 
men that shall ever be born into the world, even those who here- 
after shall be innocent. Take care how you grow too fond of 
your wife. Never tell her all you know. If you reveal some 
things to her, be sure you keep others concealed from her. You, 
indeed, have nothing to fear from your Penelope, she will not use 
you as my wife has treated me ; however, take care how you trust 
a woman.' The poet, in this and other instances, according to 
the system of many heathen as well as christian philosophers, 
shows, how anger, revenge, and other habits, which the soul had 
contracted in the body, subsist and grow in it under its state of 



I am extremely pleased with the companions which the poet 
in the next description assigns to Achilles. * Achilles (says Ho- 
mer) came up to me with Patroclus and Antilochus.' By which 
we may see that it was Homer's opinion, and probably that of 
the age he lived in, that the friendships which are made among 
the living, will likewise continue among the dead. Achilles in- 
quires after the welfare of his son, and of his father, with a fierce- 
ness of the same character that Homer has every where express- 

a Generalissimo. Instead of this cant, and ludicrous term, he should 
have used the more noble one of " General" or " Commander-in-a'iief. 



LN"o. 152. THE TATLER. 163 

ed in the actions of his life. The passage relating to his son is 
so extremely beautiful, that I must not omit it. Ulysses, after 
having described him as wise in council, and active in war, and 
mentioned the foes whom he had slain in battle, adds an observa- 
tion that he himself had made of his behaviour whilst he lay in 
the wooden horse. ' Most of the generals (says he) that were 
with us, either wept or trembled : as for your son, I neither saw 
him wipe a tear from his cheeks, or change his countenance. On 
the contrary, he would often lay his hand upon his sword, or 
grasp his spear, as impatient to employ them against the Trojans.' 
He then informs his father of the great honour and rewards 
which he had purchased before Troy, and of his return from it 
without a wound. The shade of Achilles, says the poet, was so 
pleased with the account he received of his son, that he inquired 
no further, but stalked away with more than ordinary majesty 
over the green meadow that lay before them. 

This last circumstance of a deceased father's rejoicing in the 
behaviour of his son, is very finely contrived by Homer, as an in- 
centive to virtue, and made use of by none that I know besides 
himself. 

The description of Ajax, which follows, and his refusing to 
speak to Ulysses, who had won the armour of Achilles from him, 
and by that means occasioned his death, is admired by every one 
that reads it. When Ulysses relates the sullenness of his de 
portment, and considers the greatness of the hero, he expresses 
himself with generous and noble sentiments. ' Oh ! that I had 
never gained a prize which cost the life of so brave a man as 
Ajax ! who, for the beauty of his person, and greatness of his 
actions, was inferior to none but the divine Achilles.' The same 
noble condescension, which never dwells but in truly great minds, 
and such as Homer would represent that of Ulysses to have 
been, discovers itself likewise in the speech which he made to 



164 the :atler. [No. 152 

the ghost of Ajax on that occasion. ' Oh Ajax ! (says he,) 
will you keep your resentments even after death ? what de- 
structions hath this fatal armour brought upon the Greeks by 
robbing them of you, who were their bulwark and defence 1 
Achilles is not more bitterly lamented among us than you. Im- 
pute not then your death to any one but Jupiter, who, out of his 
anger to the Greeks, took you away from among them : let me 
entreat you to approach me ; restrain the fierceness of your wrath, 
and the greatness of your soul, and hear what I have to say 
to you.' Ajax, without making a reply, turned his back upon 
him, and retired into a crowd of ghosts. 

Ulysses, after all these visions, took a view of those impious 
wretches who lay in tortures for the crimes they had committed 
upon the earth, whom he describes under all the varieties of pain, 
as so many marks of divine vengeance, to deter others from fol- 
lowing their example. He then tells us, that notwithstanding 
he had a great curiosity to see the heroes that lived in the ages 
before him, the ghosts began to gather about him in such pro 
digious multitudes, and with such confusion of voices, that his 
heart trembled as he saw himself amidst so great a scene of hor- 
rors. He adds, that he was afraid lest some hideous spectre 
should appear to him, that might terrify him to distraction; 
and therefore withdrew in time. 

I question not but my reader will be pleased with this de- 
scription of a future state, represented by such a noble and fruit- 
ful imagination, that had nothing to direct it besides the light of 
nature, and the opinions of a dark and ignorant age. ft 

a These extracts from the writings of antiquity, tho' cuiions in them- 
selves, and embellished by the masterly pen of our author, we yet, by no 
means, the most pleasing parts of his works. The reason. I take to" be, 
that, to the learned reader, they want the grace of novelty ; and, to the 
unlearaed, as not entering into the ideas of ancient times, they appear cold 
and insipid. In the case before u?, many a person, who is little affected 
by this gloomy tale of Homer's, ghosts, would be warmed into an enthusi- 
asm of virtue, by the fine paintings of futurity, which our best writers 



No. 153.] THE TATLER. 165 

No. 153. SATURDAY, APRIL 1, 1710. 

Bombalio, Clangor, Stridor, Taratantara, Murmur.— Farn. Ehet. 

From my own Apartment, March 31. 

[The hint of this paper, according to DTsraeli, was borrowed from a pa- 
per in the philosophical transactions for 1700, " A conjecture at disposi- 
tions from the modulations of the voice." — G.] 

I have heard of a very valuable picture, wherein all the 
painters of the age in which it was drawn, are represented 
sitting together in a circle, and joining in a concert of music 
Each of them plays upon such a particular instrument as is the 
most suitable to his character, and expresses that style and man- 
ner of painting, which is peculiar to him. The famous cupola- 
painter of those times, to show the grandeur and boldness of his 
figures, hath a horn in his mouth, which he seems to wind with 
great strength and force. On the contrary, an eminent artist, 
who wrought up his pictures with the greatest accuracy, and 
gave them all those delicate touches which are apt to please the 
nicest eye, is represented as turning a theorbo. The same kind 
of humour runs through the whole piece. 

I have often from this hint imagined to myself, that different 
talents in discourse might be shadowed out after the same man- 
ner by different kinds of music ; and that the several conversible 
parts of mankind in this great city might be cast into proper 
characters and divisions, as they resemble several instruments 
that are in use among the masters of harmony. Of these, there- 
fore, in their order, and first of the drum. 

Your drums are the blusterers in conversation, that with a 
loud laugh, unnatural mirth, and a torrent of noise, domineer in 
public assemblies, overbear men of sense, stun their companions, 
and fill the place they are in with a rattling sound, that hatt 
seldom any wit, humour, or good breeding in it. The drum, 

have given, on the ideas of improved philosophy or sacred scriptuie; or 
by one of Mr. Addison's own r sions. 



166 THE TATLER. [No. 153. 

notwithstanding, by this boisterous vivacity, is very proper to 
impose upon the ignorant ; and in conversation with ladies, who 
are not of the finest taste, often passes for a man of mirth and 
wit, and for wonderful pleasant company. I need not observe, 
that the emptiness of the drum very much contributes to its 
noise. 

The lute is a character directly opposite to the drum, that 
sounds very finely by itself, or in a very small concert. Its 
notes are exquisitely sweet, and very low, easily drowned in a 
multitude of instruments, and even lost among a few, unless you 
give a particular attention to it. A lute is seldom heard in a 
company of more than five, whereas a drum will show itself to 
advantage in an assembly of five hundred. The lutanists, there- 
fore, are men of a fine genius, uncommon reflection, great affa- 
bility, and esteemed chiefly by persons of a good taste, who arc 
the only proper judges of so delightful and soft a melody. 

The trumpet is an instrument that has in it no compass of 
music, or variety of sound, but is notwithstanding very agreeable, 
so long as it keeps within its pitch. It has not above four or 
five notes, which are, however, very pleasing, and capable of ex- 
quisite turns and modulations. The gentlemen who fall under 
this denomination, are your men of the most fashionable educa- 
tion and refined breeding, who have learned a certain smooth- 
ness of discourse, and sprightliness of air, from the polite com- 
pany they have kept ; but at the same time have shallow parts, 
weak judgments, and a short reach of understanding ; a play- 
house, a drawing-room, a ball, a visiting-day, or a ring at Hyde- 
Park, are the few notes they are masters of, which they touch 
upon in all conversations. The trumpet, however, is a necessary 
instrument about a court, and a proper enlivener of a concert, 
though of no great harmony by itself. 

Violins are the lively, forward, importunate wits, that diytin- 



No. 153.] THE1ATLER. 167 

guish themselves by the flourishes of imagination, sharpness of 
repartee, glances of satire, and bear away the upper part in every 
concert. I cannot, however, but observe, that when a man is 
not disposed to hear music, there is not a more disagreeable 
sound in harmony, than that of a violin. 

There is another musical instrument, which is more frequent 
in this nation than in any other ; I mean your bass-viol, whict 
grumbles in the bottom of the concert, and with a surly mascu 
line sound strengthens the harmony, and tempers the sweetness 
of the several instruments that play along with it. The bass-vio/ 
is an instrument of a quite different nature to the trumpet, and 
may signify men of rough sense, and unpolished parts, who do 
not love to hear themselves talk, but sometimes break out with 
an agreeable bluntness, unexpected wit, and surly pleasantries 
to the no small diversion of their friends and companions. In 
short, I look upon every sensible true-born Briton to be natu- 
rally a bass-viol. 

As for your rural wits, who talk with great eloquence and 
alacrity of foxes, hounds, horses, quickset hedges, and six-bar 
gates, double ditches, and broken necks, I am in doubt, whether 
I should give them a place in the conversable world. However, 
if they will content themselves with being raised to the dignity 
of hunting-horns, I shall desire for the future that they may be 
known by that name. 

I must not here omit the bagpipe species, that will entertain 
you from morning to night with the repetition of a few notes, 
which are played over and over, with the perpetual humming of 
a drone running underneath them. These are your dull, heavy, 
tedious story-tellers, the load and burthen of conversations, that 
set up for men of importance, by knowing secret history, and 
giving an account of transactions, that whether a they ever passed 

* " That whether'' — to — "welfare." Carelessly and ellipticaliy jxj,r«*«i 



168 THE TATLER. [No. 153 

in the world or not, doth not signify an halfpenny to its instruc- 
tion, or its welfare. Some have observed, that the Northern 
Darts of this island are more particularly fruitful in bagpipes. 

There are so very few persons who are masters in every kind 
of conversation, and can talk on all subjects, that I do not know 
whether we should make a distinct species of them : nevertheless, 
that my scheme may not be defective, for the sake of those few who 
are endowed with such extraordinary talents, I shall allow them 
to be harpsichords, a kind of music which every one knows is a 
concert by itself. 

As for your passing bells, who look upon mirth as criminal, 
and talk of nothing but what is melancholy in itself, and morti 
fying to human nature, I shall not mention them. 

I shall likewise pass over in silence all the rabble of man- 
kind, that crowd our streets, coffee-houses, feasts, and public 
tables. I cannot call their discourse conversation, but rather 
something that is practised in imitation of it. For which reason, 
if I would describe them by any musical instrument, it should 
be by those modern inventions of the bladder and string, tongs 
and key, marrowbone and cleaver. 

My reader will doubtless observe, that I have only touched 
here upon male instruments, having reserved my female concert 
to another occasion. If he has a mind to know where these seve- 
ral characters are to be met with, I could direct him to a whole 
club of drums ; not to mention another of bagpipes, which I have 
before given some account of in my description of our nightly 
meetings in Sheer-Lane. The lutes may often be met with in 
couples upon the banks of a crystal stream, or in the retreats of 
shady woods, and flowery meLdows ; which for different reasons 
are likewise the great resort of your hunting horns. Bass-viols 

ed. The sense is, and, perhaps, the expression should have been — " trans- 
actions so frivolous, that one is not concerned to inquire, whether they 
ever passed in the world, or not." 



No. 153.] THE TAILEH. 169 

are frequently to "be found over a glass of stale beer, and a pipe 
of tobacco ; whereas those who set up for violins, seldom fail to 
maKe their appearance at "Will's once every evening. You may 
meet with a trumpet any where on the other side of Charing 
Cross. 

That we may draw something for our advantage in life out of 
the foregoing discourse, I must entreat my reader to make a 
narrow search into his life and conversation, and upon his leaving 
any company, to examine himself seriously, whether he has be- 
haved himself in it like a drum or a trumpet, a violin, or a bass- 
viol ; and accordingly endeavour to mend his music for the fu- 
ture. For my own part I must confess, I was a drum for many 
years ; nay, and a very noisy one, till having polished myself a 
little in good company, I threw as much of the trumpet into my 
conversation as was possible for a man of an impetuous temper, 
by which mixture of different musics, I look upon myself, during 
the course of many years, to have resembled a tabor and pipe. 
I have since very much endeavoured at the sweetness of the lute ; 
bu+ in spite of all my resolutions, I must confess with great con- 
fusion, that I find myself daily degenerating into a bagpipe ; 
whether it be the effect of my old age, or of the company I keep, 
I know not. All that I can do, is to keep a watch over my con- 
rersation, and to silence the drone as soon as I find it begin to 
hum in my discourse, being determined rather to hear the notes 
of others, than to play out of time, and encroach upon their parts 
in the concert by the noise of so tiresome an instrument. 

I shall conclude this paper with a letter which I received last- 
night from a friend of mine, who knows very well my notions 
upon this subject, and invites me to pass the evening at his 
house, with a select company of friends, in the following words : 



vol. iv. — 8 



170 THETATLER. (N - 164. 

" Dear Isaac, 
" I intend to have a concert at my house this evening, having 
by great chance got a harpsichord, which I am sure will enter- 
tain you very agreeably. There will be likewise two lutes and a 
trumper, : let me beg you to put yourself in tune, and believe me 
" Your very faithful servant, 

" Nicholas Humdrum." 



No. 154. TUESDAY, APRIL 4, 1710. 

Obscuris vera involvens.— Virg. J3n. 1. 6. 

From my own Apartment, April 8. 

We have already examined Homer's description of a future 
state, and the condition in which he hath placed the souls of the 
deceased. I shall in this paper make some observations on the 
account which Virgil hath given us of the same subject, who, be- 
sides a greatness of genius, had all the lights of philosophy and 
human learning to assist and guide him in his discoveries. 

iEneas is represented as descending into the Empire ot 
Death, with a prophetess by his side, who instructs him in the 
secrets of those lower regions. 

Upon the confines of the dead, and before the very gates of 
this infernal world, Yirgil describes ' several inhabitants, whose 
natures are wonderfully suited to the situation of the place, as 
being either the occasions or resemblances of death. Of the first 
kind are the 2 shadows of Sickness, Old Age, Fear, Famine, and 
Poverty (apparitions very terrible to behold :) with several others, 
as Toil, War, Contention, and Discord, which contribute all of 

'The old fol'o reads — hath placed. — [N.] 
1 O. F. pale.—[&.] 



No 154.] THE TATLER. 171 

tliem to people this common receptacle of human souls. As this 
was likewise a very proper residence for every thing that resem- 
bles Death, the poet tells us, that Sleep, whom he represents as 
a near relation to Death, has likewise his habitation in these 
quarters, and describes in them a huge gloomy elm- tree, which 
seems a very proper ornament for the place, and is possessed by 
an innumerable swarm of Dreams, that hang in clusters under 
every leaf of it. He then gives us a list of imaginary persons, 
who very naturally lie within the shadow of the Dream-tree, as 
being of the same kind of make in themselves, and the materials, 
or (to use Shakespear's phrase) the stuff of which dreams are 
made. Such are the shades of the Giant with a hundred hands, 
and of his brother with three bodies; of the double-shaped Cen- 
taur, and Scylla ; the Gorgon with snaky hair ; the Harpy with 
a woman's face and lion's talons : the seven-headed Hydra ; and 
the Chimsera, which breathes forth a flame, and is a compound of 
three animals. These several mixed natures, the creatures of 
imagination, are not only introduced with great art after the 
Dreams, but as they are'planted at the very entrance, and within 
the very gates of those regions, do probably denote the wild de- 
liriums and extravagancies of fancy, which the soul usually falls 
into when she is just upon the verge of death. 

Thus far iEneas travels in an allegory. The rest of the de 
scription is drawn with great exactness, according to the religion 
of the Heathens, and the opinions of the Platonic philosophy. I 
shall not trouble my reader with a common dull story, that gives 
an account why the Heathens first of all supposed a ferryman 
in hell, and his name to be Charon ; but must not pass over in 
silence the point of doctrine which Virgil hath very much insist- 
ed upon in this book, that the sovils of those who are unburied, 
are not permitted to go over into their respective places of rest, 
till they have wandered an hundred years upon the banks of Styx, 



1?2 THETATLER. |N° 154. 

This was, probably, an invention of the Heathen priesthood, to 
make the people extremely careful of performing proper rites and 
ceremonies to the memory of the dead. I shall not, however, 
with the infamous scribblers of the age, take an occasion from 
such a circumstance, to run into declamations against priestcraft, 
but rather look upon it even in this light ! as a religious artifice, 
to raise in the minds of men an esteem for the memory of their 
forefathers, and a desire to recommend themselves to that of pos- 
terity ; as also to excite in them an ambition of imitating the 
virtue of the deceased, and to keep alive in their thoughts the 
sense of the soul's immortality. In a word, we may say in de- 
fence of the 2 severe opinions relating to the shades of unburied 
persons, what hath been said by some of our divines in regard to 
the rigid doctrines concerning the souls of such who die without 
being initiated into our religion, that supposing they should be 
erroneous, they can do no hurt to the dead, and will have a good 
effect 3 upon the living, in making them cautious of neglecting 
such necessary solemnities. 

Charon is no sooner appeased, and tne triple-headed dog laid 
asleep, but JEneas makes his entrance into the dominions of 
Pluto. There are three kinds of persons described, as being situ- 
ated on the borders ; and I can give no reason for their being 
stationed there in so particular a manner, but because none of 
them seem to have had a proper right to a place among the dead, 
as not having run out the whole thread of their days, and finished 
the term of life that had been allotted them upon earth. The 
first of these are the souls of infants, who are snatched away by 
untimely ends : the second, are of those who are put to death 
wrongfully, and by an unjust sentence; and the third, of those 
who grew weary of their lives, and laid violent hands upon them- 

1 0. F. life. [N.] 2 0. F. their.— [K] 

3 0. F. have good effect— [K] 



$0. 154.] THE TATLER. 17S 

/ 

selves. As for the second of these, Virgil adds with great 
beauty, that Minos, the judge of the dead, is employed in giving 
them a rehearing, and assigning them their several quarters suita- 
ble to the parts they acted in life. The poet, after having men- 
tioned the souls of those unhappy men who destroyed themselves, 
breaks out into a fine exclamation : ' Oh ! how gladly, (says he,) 
would they now endure life with all its miseries ! But the desti- 
nies forbid their return to earth, and the waters of Styx surround 
them with nine streams that are unpassable.' It is very remark- 
able, that Virgil, notwithstanding self-murder was so frequent ' 
among the heathens, and had been practised by some of the great- 
est men in the very age before him, hath here represented it as so 
heinous a crime. But in this particular, he was guided by the 
doctrines of his great master Plato, who says on this subject, 
* That a man is placed in his station of life like a soldier in his 
proper post, which he is not to quit, whatever may happen, until 
he is called off by his commander who planted him in it ' 

There is another point in the Platonic philosophy, which 
Virgil has made the ground-work of the greatest part in the 
piece we are now examining, having with wonderful art and 
beauty materialized (if I may so call it) a scheme of abstracted 
notions, and clothed the most nice refined conceptions of philoso- 
phy in sensible images, and poetical representations. The Plato 
nists tell us, that the soul, during her residence in the body, con- 
tracts many virtuous and vicious habits, so as to become a bene- 
ficent, mild, charitable, or an angry, malicious, revengeful being : 
a substance inflamed with lust, avarice, and pride ; or, on the 
contrary, brightened with pure, generous, and humble disposi- 
tions : That these and the like habits of virtue and vice growing 
into the very essence of the soul, survive and gather strength in 
her after her dissolution : That the torments of a vicious soul in 

1 0. F. pregnant — [N.] 



174 THE TATLER. |>"o. 154 

t& future state, arise principally from those importunate passions 
jrhich are not capable of being gratified without a body ; and 
that on the contrary, the happiness of virtuous minds very much 
consists in their being employed in sublime speculations, innocent 
diversions, sociable affections, and all the extacies of passion and 
rapture which are agreeable to reasonable natures, and of which 
they gained a relish in this life. 

Upon this foundation, the poet raises that beautiful descrip- 
tion of the secret haunts and walks, which he tells us are inhab- 
ited b} r deceased lovers. 

' Not far from hence, (says he.) lies a great waste of plains, 
that are called the Fields of Melancholy. In these there grows 
a forest of myrtle, divided into many shady retirements and 
covered walks, and inhabited by the souls of those who pined 
away with love. The passion, (says he,) continues with them 
after death.' He then gives a list of this languishing tribe, in 
which his own Dido makes the principal figure, and is described 
as living in this soft romantic scene, with the shade of her first 
husband Sichseus. 

The poet in the next place mentions another plain that was 
peopled with the ghosts of warriors, as still delighting in each 
other's company, and pleased with the exercise of arms. He 
there represents the Grecian generals and common soldiers who 
perished in the siege of Troy as drawn up in squadrons, and ter- 
rified at the approach of iEneas, which renewed in them those 
impressions of fear they had before received in battle with the 
Trojans. He afterwards likewise, upon the same notion, gives a 
view of the Trojan heroes who lived in former ages, amidst a 
visionary scene of chariots and arms, flowery meadows, shining 
spears, and generous steeds, which he tells us were their plea- 
sures upon earth, and now make up their happiness in Elysium " 
For the same reason also, he mentions others as singing paeans, 



No. 154.] THE TATLER. 175 

and songs of triumph, amidst a beautiful grove of laurel. The 
chief of the concert was the poet, Musseus, who stood inclosed 
with a circle of admirers, and rose by the head and shoulders 
above the throng of shades that surrounded him. The habita- 
tions 1 of unhappy spirits, to show the duration of their torments, 
and the desperate condition they are in, are represented as 
guarded by a Fury, moated round with a lake of fire, strengthen- 
ed with towers of iron, encompassed with a triple wall, and forti- 
fied with pillars of adamant, which all the gods together are not 
able to heave from their 2 foundations. The noise of stripes, the 
clank of chains, and the groans of the tortured, strike s the pious 
iEneas with a kind of horror. The poet afterwards divides the 
criminals into two classes : the first and blackest catalogue con- 
sists of such as were guilty of outrages against the gods ; and the 
next, of such who were convicted of injustice between man and 
man : the greatest number of whom, says the poet, are those who 
followed the dictates of Avarice. 

It was an opinion of the Platonists, ' That the souls of men 
having contracted in the body great stains and pollutions of vice 
and ignorance, there were several purgations and cleansings ne- 
cessary to be passed through both here and hereafter, in order to 
refine and purify them.'' 4 

Virgil, to give this thought likewise a clothing of poetry, de- 
scribes some spirits as bleaching in the winds, others as cleans- 
ing under great falls of waters, and others as purging in fire, to 
recover the primitive beauty and purity of their natures. 

It was likewise an opinion of the same sect of philosophers, 
that the souls of all men exist in a separate state, long before 
their union with their bodies; and that upon their. immersion intc 
flesh, they forget 5 every thing which passed in the state of pre 

1 Q. F. habitation.— [N.] » 0. F. its.— [N.] s 0. F. even.— [N.] 

*0. F. The road from ignorance and vice. — [N.j 6 0. F. forgot. 



176 THE TATLER. [No. 15fc 

existence : so that what we here call knowledge, is nothing else 
hut memory, or the recovery of those things which we knew be- 
fore. 

In pursuance of this scheme, Virgil gives us a view of seve- 
ral souls, who, to prepare themselves for living upon earth, flock 
about the banks of the river Lethe, and swill themselves with 
the waters of oblivion. 

The same scheme gives him an opportunity of making a noble 
compliment to his countrymen, where Anchises is represented 
taking a survey of the long train of heroes that are to descend 
from him, and giving his son iEneas an account of all the glories 
of his race. 

I need not mention the revolution of the Platonic year, which 
is but just touched upon in this book ; and as I have consulted 
no author's thoughts in this explication, shall be very well 
pleased, if it can make the noblest piece of the most accomplished 
poet more agreeable to my female readers, when they think fit to 
look into Dry den's translation of it. ft 



No. 155. THURSDAY, APRIL 6, 1710. 



-Aliena negotia curat 



Excussus propriis. Hok. 

From my own Apartment, April 5. 
There lived some years since within my neighbourhood a 
very grave person, an upholsterer, 1 who seemed a man of more 

1 The original of this sketch was an upholsterer in Covent Garden, by 
the name of Arne. V also No. 160 — and the character of Quidnunc in 
Murphy's farce of the ' Upholsterer, or, What News V— G. 

* A very poor reason for giving the foregoing analysis of this poem, 
which the learned reader only, will admire, or can possibly umWstand. 



No. 155.] THE TATLER. 177 

than ordinary application to business. He was a very early riser, 
and was often abroad two or three hours before any of his neigh 
bours. He had a particular carefulness in the knitting of his 
brows, and a kind of impatience in all his motions, that plainly 
discovered he was always intent on matters of importance. Upon 
my inquiry into his life and conversation, I found him to be the 
greatest newsmonger in our quarter ; that he rose before day 
to read the Postman ; and that he would take two or three turns 
to the other end of the town before his neighbours were up, to 
see if there were any Dutch mails come in. He had a wife and 
several children ; but was ' much more inquisitive to know what 
passed in Poland than in his own family, and was in greater pain 
and anxiety of mind for King Augustus's welfare than that of 
his nearest relations. He looked extremely thin in a dearth of 
news, and never enjoyed himself in a westerly wind. This inde- 
fatigable kind of life was the ruin of his shop.; for about the 
time that his favourite prince left the crown of Poland, he broke 
and disappeared. 

This man and his affairs had been long out of my mind, till 
about three days ago, as I was walking in St. James's Park, I 
heard somebody at a distance hemming after me ; and who should 
it be but my old neighbour the upholsterer. I saw he was re- 
duced to extreme poverty, by certain shabby superfluities in his 
dress : for notwithstanding that it was a very sultry day for the 
time of the year, he wore a loose great coat and a muff, with a 
long campaign-wig out of curl ; to which he had added the orna- 
ment of a pair of black garters buckled under the knee. 1 Upon 
his coming up to me, I was going to inquire into his present cir- 
cumstances ; but was prevented by his asking me, with a whisper, 
' Whether the last letters brought any accounts that one might 

1 Nichols's notes contain some amusing details of the fashions of that 
day.— G. 

VOL. IV. — S* 



178 THE TATLER. [>'<>. L55. 

rely upon from Bender?' I told him, 'None that I heard of;' 
and asked him, ' Whether he had yet married his eldest 
daughter?' He told me 'No.' But pray,' says he, 'tell 
me sincerely, what are your thoughts of the king of Sweden ? ' 
(for though his wife and children were starving, I found his 
chief concern at present was for this great monarch.) I told 
him, ' that I looked upon him as one of the first heroes of the 
age.' ' But pray,' says he, ' do you think there is any thing in 
the story of his wound? ' and finding me surprised at the ques- 
tion, l Nay,' says he, ' I only propose it to you.' I answered, 
' that I thought there was no reason to doubt of it.' ' But why 
in the heel,' says he, ' more than in any other part of the body ? ' 
1 Because,' says-I, ' the bullet chanced to light there.' 

This extraordinary dialogue was no sooner ended, but he be- 
gan to launch out into a long dissertation upon the affairs of the 
North ; and after having spent some time on them, he told me, 
he was in a great perplexity how to reconcile the Supplement 
with the English-Post, 1 and had been just now examining what 
the other papers say upon the same subject. ' The Daily Cour- 
ant (says he) has these words, ' We have advices from very good 
hands, that a certain prince has some matters of great impor- 
tance under consideration.' This is very mysterious ; but the 
Post-boy leaves us more in the dark, for he tells us, ' That there 
are private intimations of measures taken by a certain prince, 
which time will bring to light.' Now the Postman, (says he) 
who uses to be very clear, refers to the same news in these 
words ; ' The late conduct of a certain prince affords great mat- 
ter of speculation.' This certain prince, (says the upholsterer) 

whom they are all so cautious of naming, I take to be ,' 

upon which, though there was nobody near us, he whispered 

! Nichols gives in his notes to No. 91, a good list of the papers of this 
period — though the ' English Post ' is not included — G. 



No. 155.] THE TATLER, 179 

something in my ear, which I did not hear, or think worth my 
while to make him repeat 

We were now got to the upper end of the Mall, where were 
three or four very odd fellows sitting together upon the bench. 
These I found were all of them politicians, who used to sun 
themselves in that place every day about dinner-time. Observ- 
ing them to be curiosities in their kind, and my friend's acquaint- 
ance, I sat down among them. 

The chief politician of the bench was a great assertor of 
paradoxes. He told us, with a seeming concern, that by some 
news he had lately read from Muscovy, it appeared to him that 
there was a storm gathering in the Black Sea, which might in 
time do hurt to the naval forces of this nation. To this he 
added, that for his part, he could not wish to see the Turk driven 
out of Europe, which he believed could not but be prejudicial to 
our woollen manufacture. He then told us, that he looked upon 
those extraordinary revolutions which had lately happened in 
these parts of the world, to have risen chiefly from two persons 
who were not much talked of; and those, says he, are Prince 
Menzikoff, and the Duchess of Mirandola. He backed his asser- 
tions with so many broken hints, and such a show of depth and 
wisdom, that we gave ourselves up to his opinions. 

The discourse at length fell upon a point which seldom es- 
capes a knot of true-born Englishmen, whether in case of a reli- 
gious war, the Protestants would not be too strong for the Pa- 
pists ? This we unanimously determined on the Protestant side. 
One who sat on my right hand, and, as I found by his discourse, 
had been in the West-Indies, assured us, that it would be a very 
easy matter for the Protestants to beat the Pope at sea ; and 
added, that whenever such a war does break out, it must turn to 
the good of the Leeward Islands. Upon this, one who gat at 
the end of the bench, and, as I afterwards found, was the goog 



180 THE TATLEIL. [No. 155 

rapher of the company, said, that in case the Papists should 
drive the Protestants from these parts of Europe, when the 
worst came to the worst, it would be impossible to beat them out 
of Norway and Greenland, provided the Northern crowns hold 
together, and the Czar of Muscovy stand neuter. 

He further told us for our comfort, that there were vast tracts 
of land about the pole, inhabited neither by Protestants nor 
Papists, and of greater extent than all the Roman Catholic do- 
minions in Europe. 

When we had fully discussed this point, my friend the up 
holsterer began to exert himself upon the present negotiations of 
peace, in which he deposed princes, settled the bounds of king- 
doms, and balanced the power of Europe, with great justice and 
impartiality. 

I at length took my leave of the company, and was going 
away ; but had not been gone thirty yards, before the upholsterer 
hemmed again after me. Upon his advancing towards me. with a 
whisper, I expected to hear some secret piece of news, which he 
had not thought fit to communicate to the bench ; but instead of 
that, he desired me in my ear to lend him half-a-crown. In com- 
passion to so needy a statesman, and to dissipate the confusion 
I found he was in, I told him, if he pleased, I would give him 
five shillings, to receive five pounds of him when the great Turk 
was driven out of Constantinople ; which he very readily accept- 
ed, but not before he had laid down to me the impossibility of 
such an event, as the affairs of Europe now stand. 

This paper I design for the particular benefit of those worthy 
citizens who live more in a coffee-house than in their shops, and 
whose thoughts are so taken up with the affairs of the allies, that 
they forget their customers. 11 

a The ridicule of this paper is incomparably fine and well placed. 



W°« 156 -1 THETATLER. 181 

No. 156. SATURDAY, APRIL 8, 1710. 

Sequiturque Patrem non passibus aequis. — Vieo 

From my own Apartment, April 7. 

We lave already described out of Homer the voyage of 
Ulysses to the infernal shades, with the several adventures that 
attended it. If we look into the beautiful romance published 
not many years since by the Archbishop of Cambray, we may see 
the son of Ulysses bound on the same expedition, and after the 
same manner making his discoveries among the regions of the 
dead. The story of Telemachus is formed altogether in the 
spirit of Homer, and will give an unlearned reader a notion ot 
that great poet's manner of writing, more than any translation of 
him can possibly do. a As it was written for the instruction of a 
young prince, who may one day sit upon the throne of France, 
the author took care to suit the several parts of his story, and 
particularly the description we are now entering upon, to the 
character and quality of his pupil. For which reason, he insists 
very much on the misery of bad, and the happiness of good 
kings, in the account he hath given of punishments and rewards 
in the other world. 

We may, however, observe, notwithstanding the endeavours 
of this great and learned author, to copy after the style and sen- 
timents of Homer, that there is a certain tincture of Christianity 
running through the whole relation. The prelate in several 
places mixes himself with the poet ; so that his future state puts 

a Because the peculiar fictions and superstitions of Homer are omitted, 
or turned in such away, as is more consistent with philosophical, and even 
Christian ideas. In other words, the writer treats the subject, as Homer 
would, most probably, have done, if he had lived in our days. This con- 
fession of Mr. Addison justifies the remark before made on the impropriety 
of giving extracts from the two Pagan poets, on the sulject of a future 
state, for the entertainment of common readers. 



1 82 THETATLER. [No. 156 

me in mind of Michael Angelo's last judgment, where Charon" 
and his boat are represented as bearing a part in the dreadful 
solemnities of that great day. 

Telemachus, after having passed through the dark avenues of 
death, in the retinue of Mercury, who every day delivers up a 
certain tale of ghosts to the ferryman of Styx, is admitted into 
the infernal bark. Among the companions of his voyage, is the 
shade of Nabopharzon, a king of Babylon, and tyrant of all the 
East. Among the ceremonies and pomps of his funeral, there 
were four slaves sacrificed, according to the custom of the coun- 
try, in order to attend him among the shades. The author hav- 
ing described this tyrant in the most odious colours of pride, in- 
solence, and cruelty, tells us, that his four slaves, instead of 
serving him after death, were perpetually insulting him with re- 
proaches and affronts for his past usage ; that they spurned him 
as he lay upon the ground, and forced him to show his face, 
which he would fain have covered, as lying under all the confu- 
sions of guilt and infamy ; and, in short, that they kept him 
bound in a chain, in order to drag him before the tribunal of the 
dead. 

Telemachus, upon looking out of the bark, sees all the strand 
covered with an innumerable multitude of shades, who upon his 
jumping ashore, immediately vanished. He then pursues his 
course to the palace of Pluto, who is described as seated on his 
throne in terrible majesty, with Proserpine by his side. At the 

a This way of paganizing a future state, was unavoidable in the plan 
of Telemachus, as it also was in that of Fontenelle's Dialogues. But it 
was something to be serious in his paganism. Thus much may be said for 
the French Homer. But how the French Lucian could hope to serve the 
cause of virtue and religion, by indulging the way of humour on a sub- 
ject, which no man should treat with levity, or so much as think of, but 
with awe, it is not easy to conceive. It is very unhappy when men of 
parts are content to purchase the fame of ingenuity, at the expense of de- 
cency and common sense ; and it is still more to be lamented, that men of 
religion should be, sometimes, indiscreet enough, to give into those free 
Joins of men, who have none. 



No. 156.] THE TATLER. 183 

foot of his throne was the pale hideous spectre, \*ho, by the 
ghastliness of his visage, and the nature of the apparitions that 
surrounded him, discovers himself to be Death. His attendants 
are Melancholy, Distrust, Revenge, Hatred, Avarice, Despair, 
Ambition, Envy, Impiety, with frightful Dreams, and waking 
Cares, which are all drawn very naturally in proper actions and 
postures. The author, with great beauty, places near his fright- 
ful dreams, an assembly of phantoms, which are often employed 
to terrify the living, by appearing in the shape and likeness of 
the dead. 

The young hero, in the next place, takes a survey of the dif- 
ferent kinds of criminals that lay in torture among clouds of 
sulphur, and torrents of fire. The first of these were such as 
had been guilty of impieties, which every one hath an horror for : 
to which is added, a catalogue of such offenders that scarce ap- 
pear to be faulty in the eyes of the vulgar. ' Among these,' says 
the author, ' are malicious critics, that have endeavoured to cast 
a blemish upon the perfections of others ;' with whom he like- 
wise places such as have often hurt the reputation of the inno- 
cent, by passing a rash judgment on their actions, without know- 
ing the occasion of them. ' These crimes, (says he) are more 
severely punished after death, because they generally meet with 
impunity upon earth.' 

Telemachus, after having taken a survey of several other 
wretches in the same circumstances, arrives at that region of tor- 
ments in which wicked kings are punished. There are very fine 
strokes of imagination in the description which he gives of this 
unhappy multitude. He tells us, that on one side of them there 
stood a revengeful fury, thundering in their ears incessant repeti- 
tions of ail the crimes they had committed upon earth, with the 
aggravations of ambition, vanity, hardness of heart, and all those 
secret affections of mind that enter into the composition of a 



184 THE TATLER. [No. 156 

tyrant. At the same time, she holds up to them a large mirror, 
in which every one sees himself represented in the natural horror 
and deformity of his character. On the other side of them 
stands another fury, that, with an insulting derision, repeats to 
them all the praises that their flatterers had bestowed upon them 
while they sat upon their respective thrones. She too, says the 
author, presents a mirror before their eyes, in which every one 
sees himself adorned with all those beauties and perfections in 
which they had been drawn by the vanity of their own hearts, 
and the flattery of others. To punish them for the wantonness 
of the cruelty which they formerly exercised, they are now de- 
livered up to be treated according to the fancy and caprice of 
several slaves, who have here an opportunity of tyrannizing in 
their turns. 

The author having given us a description of these ghastly 
spectres, who, says he, are always calling upon death, and are 
placed under the distillation of that burning vengeance which 
falls upon them drop by drop, and is never to be exhausted, 
leads us into a pleasing scene of groves, filled with the melody 
of birds, and the odours of a thousand different plants. These 
groves are represented as rising among a great many flowery 
meadows, and watered with streams that diffuse a perpetual 
freshness in the midst of an eternal day, and a never-fading 
spring. This, says the author, was the habitation of those good 
princes who were friends of the gods, and parents of the people. 
Among these Telemachus converses with the shade of one of his 
ancestors, who makes a most agreeable relation of the joys of 
Elysium, and the nature of its inhabitants. The residence of 
Sesostris among these happy shades, with his character and pre- 
sent employment, is drawn in a very lively manner, and with ? 
great elevation of thought. 

The description of that pure and gentle light which overflows 



No. 156.] THE TATLER. 185 

these happy regions, and clothes the spirits of these virtuous 
persons, hath something in it of that enthusiasm which this 
author was accused of by his enemies in the church of Rome ; 
but however it may look in religion, it makes a very beautiful 
figure in poetry. 

' The rays of the sun (says he) are darkness in comparison 
with this light, which rather deserves the name of glory, than 
that of light. It pierces the thickest bodies, in the same manner 
as the sun-beams pass through crystal ; it strengthens the sight 
instead of dazzling it ; and nourishes in the most inward recesses 
of the mind, a perpetual serenity that is not to be expressed. It 
enters and incorporates itself with the very substance of the soul : 
the spirits of the blessed feel it in all their senses, and in all 
their perceptions. It produces a certain source of peace and joy 
that arises in them for ever, running through all the faculties, 
and refreshing all the desires of the soul. External pleasures 
and delights, with all their charms and allurements, are regarded 
with the utmost indifference and neglect by these happy spirits, 
who have this great principle of pleasure within them, drawing 
the whole mind to itself, calling off their attention from the most 
delightful objects, and giving them all the transports of inebria- 
tion, without the confusion and the folly of it.' 

I have here only mentioned some master-touches of this ad- 
mirable piece, because the original itself is understood by the 
greater part of my readers. I must confess, I take a particular 
delight in these prospects of futurity, whether grounded upon 
the probable suggestions of a fine imagination, or the more se- 
vere conclusions of philosophy ; as a man loves to hear all the 
discoveries or conjectures relating to a foreign country which he- 
is. at some time, to inhabit. Prospects of this nature lighten 
the burden of any present evil, and refresh us under the worst 
and lowest circumstances of mortality. They extinguish in us 



18b THE TATLER. [No. 158 

both the fear and envy of human grandeur. Insolence shrinks 
its head, power disappears ; pain, poverty, anu death, fly before 
them. In short, the mind that is habituated to the lively sense 
of an hereafter, can hope for what is the most terrifying to the 
generality of mankind, and rejoice in what is the most afflicting. 



No. 158. THURSDAY, APRIL 13, 1710. 

Faciunt nae intelligendo, ut nihil intelligant. — Teb. 

From my own Apartment, April 12. 

Tom Folio * is a broker in learning, employed to get together 
good editions, and stock the libraries of great men. There is not 
a sale of books begins till Tom Folio is seen at the door. There 
is not an auction where his name is not heard, and that too in 
the very nick of time, in the critical moment, before the last de- 
cisive stroke of the hammer. There is not a subcription goes 
forward, in which Tom is not privy to the first rough draught 
of the proposals ; nor a catalogue printed, that doth not come to 
him wet from the press. He is an universal scholar, so far as 
the title-page of all authors, 11 knows the manuscripts in which 
they were discovered, the editions through which they have pass- 
ed, with the praises or censures which they have received from 
the several members of the learned world. He has a greater 
esteem for Aldus and Elzevir, than for Virgil and Horace. If 
you talk of Herodotus, he breaks out into a panegyric upon 
Harry Stephens. He thinks he gives you an account of an au- 

1 Supposed to mean Thomas Rawlinson. V. Nichols's notes. — G. 

* So Jar as the title-page of all authors: Ell ipticnlly expressed — He 
should have said: — "so far as the title-page of all authors can«iakr him 
f,o" — Or, I would have put it thus: — "He is deeply read in the title-pages 
of all authors." 



tf°- 158.] THETATLER. 87 

thor, when lie tells the subject he treats of, the name of the 
editor, and the year in which it was printed. Or if you draw 
him into further particulars, he cries up the goodness of the 
paper, extols the diligence of the corrector, and is transported 
with the beauty of the letter. This he looks upon to be sound 
learning and substantial criticism. As for those who talk of the 
fineness of style., and the justness of thought, or describe the 
brightness of any particular passages ; nay, though they write 
themselves in the genius and spirit of the author they admire, 
Tom looks upon them as men of superficial learning, and flashy 
parts. 

I had yesterday morning a visit from this learned idiot, (for 
that is the light in which I consider every pedant) when I dis- 
covered in him some little touches of the coxcomb, which I had 
not before observed. Being very full of the figure which he 
makes in the republic of letters, and wonderfully satisfied with 
his great stock of knowledge, he gave me broad intimations, that 
he did not ' believe ' in all points as his forefathers had done. 
He then communicated to me a thought of a certain author upon 
a passage of Virgil's account of the dead, which I made the sub- 
ject of a late paper. 1 This thought hath taken very much among 
men of Tom's pitch and understanding, though universally ex- 
ploded by all that know how to construe Virgil, or have any 
relish of antiquity. Not to trouble my reader with it, I found 
upon the whole, that Tom did not believe a future state of re- 
wards and punishments, because jEneas, at his leaving the em- 
pire of the dead, passed through the gate of ivory, and not 
through that of horn. Knowing that Tom had not sense enough 
to give up an opinion which he had once received, that he might 
avoid wrangling, I told him, that Virgil possibly had his over- 
sights as well as another author. ' Ah ! Mr. Bickerstaffe,' nays 
» V. Tatler, 154.— G. 



188 THE TATLEH. [No. 158. 

he, l you would have another opinion of him, if you would read 
him in Daniel Heinsius's edition. I have perused him myself 
several times in that edition,' continued he ; ' and after the strict- 
est and most malicious examination, could find but two faults in 
him : one of them is in the iEneid, where there are two commas 
instead of a parenthesis ; and another in the third Georgie, when? 
you may find a semicolon turned upside down.' i Perhaps,' said 
I, l these were not Virgil's thoughts, but those of the tran- 
scriber.' ' I do not design it,' says Tom, ' as a reflection on 
Virgil : on the contrary, I know that all the manuscripts l re- 
claim ' against such a punctuation. Oh ! Mr. Bickerstaffe,' says 
he, ' what would a man give to see one simile of Virgil writ in 
his own hand ? ' I asked him which was the simile he meant ; 
but was answered, l Any simile in Virgil.' He then told me all 
the secret history in the commonwealth of learning ; of modern 
pieces that had the names of ancient authors annexed to them ; 
of all the books that were now writing or printing in the several 
parts of Europe ; of many amendments which are made, and not 
yet published ; and a thousand other particulars, which I would 
not have my memory burthened with for a Vatican. 

At length, being fully persuaded that I thoroughly admired 
him, and looked upon him as a prodigy of learning, he took his 
leave. I know several of Tom's class who are professed admirers 
of Tasso without understanding a word of Italian ; and one in 
particular, that carries a Pastor-Jido in his pocket, in which I 
am sure he is acquainted with no other beauty but the clearness 
of the character. 

There is another kind of pedant, who, with all Tom Folio's 
impertinences, hath greater superstructures and embellishments 
of Greek and Latin, and is still more insupportable than the 
other, in the same degree as he is more learned. Of this kind 
vo?y often are editors, commentators, interpreters, sch aliasts, and 



No. 158.] THE TATLEE, IS9 

critics ; and in short, all men of deep learning without common 
sense. These persons set a greater value on themselves for hav- 
ing foundf|ut the meaning of a passage in Greek, than upon the 
author for having written it ; nay, will allow the passage itself 
not to have any beauty in it, at the same time that they would 
be considered as the greatest men in the age for having inter- 
preted it. They will look with contempt upon the "most beauti- 
ful poems that have been composed by any of their contempora- 
ries ; but will lock themselves up in their studies for a twelve- 
month together, to correct, publish, and expound, such trifles of 
antiquity as a modern author would be contemned for. Men of the 
strictest morals, severest lives, and the gravest professions, will 
write volumes upon an idle sonnet that is originally in Greek or 
Latin; give editions of the most immoral authors, and spin out whole 
pages upon the various readings of a lewd expression. All that 
can be said in excuse for them, is, that their works sufficiently 
show they have no taste of their authors ; and that what they do in 
this kind, is out of their great learning, and not out of any levity 
or lasciviousness of temper. a 

A pedant of this nature is wonderfully well described in six 
lines of Boileau,' with which I shall conclude his character : b 

Un Pedant, enivre de sa vaine science, 
Tout herisse de grec, tout bouffi d'arrogance, 
Et qui, de mille auteurs retenus mot pour mot, 
Dans sa tete entasses n'a souvent fait qu'un sot, 
Croit qu'un livre fait tout, et que, sans Aristote, 
La raison ne voit goutte, et le bon sens radote. 

i Satire IV. A. M. LAbbe le Vayer. V. 5 &c— G. 

* It may be so. — Yet when learned critics chuse to shine on thesfc 
dirty subjects, while so many cleaner and fairer, which deserve their 
pains, are left in obscurity, they must not be surprised if the world thinks 
otherwise. 

b The satire contained in this pape*- is extremely just : and yet, I 
doubt, has done i o small hurt in the republic of letters. The reason is, 
that most men ara lazy, as well as vain ; and are, therefore, glad of such 



190 THE TATLER. [No. 160 

No. 160. TUESDAY, APRIL 18 .710. 

From my own A partmen^fAj'ril 17. 

A common civility to an impertinent fellow, often draws upor 
one a great many unforeseen troubles ; and if one doth not take 
particular care, will be interpreted by him as an overture of 
friendship and intimacy. This I was very sensible of this morn- 
ing. About two hours before day, I heard a great rapping at 
my door, which continued some time, till my maid could get her- 
self ready to go down and see what was the occasion of it. She 
then brought me up word, that there was a gentleman who seemed 
very much in haste, and said he must needs speak with me. By 
the description she gave me of him, and by his voice, which 1 
could hear as I lay in my bed, I fancied him to be my old ac 
quaintance the upholsterer, whom I met the other day in St 
James's Park. 1 For which reason, I bid her tell the gentleman 
whoever he was, that I was indisposed, that I could see nobody 
and that, if he had any thing to say to me, I desired he would 
leave it in writing. My maid, after having delivered her message, 
told me, that the gentleman said he would stay at the next 
coffee-house till I was stirring, and bid her be sure to tell me, 
that the French were driven from the Scarp, and that Douay 
was invested. He gave her the name of another town, which I 
found she had dropped by the way. 

As much as I love to be informed of the success ot my coun- 
trymen, I do not care for hearing of a victory before day, and 
was therefore very much out of humour at this unseasonable visit. 
I had no sooner recovered my temper, and was falling asleep, but 

1 V. No. 155. 

a pretence, a* this piece of raillery affords them, to see all erudition, espe- 
cially profound erudition, in the light of pedantry. So difficult it is not 
to misapply the talent of ridicule, or, at least, not to give others the occa- 
sion of misapplying it 1 



ISO. 160. [ THETATLER, 19] 

I was immediately startled by a second rap ; and upon my maid's 
opening the door, heard the same voice ask her, if her master 
was yet up -? and at the same time bid her tell me, that he was 
come on purpose to talk with me about a piece of home-news that 
every body in town would be full of two hours hence. I ordered 
my maid, as soon as she came into the room, without hearing her 
message, to tell the gentleman, that whatever his news was, I, 
would rather hear it two hours hence than now ; and that I per- 
sisted in my resolution not to speak with any body that morning. 
The wench delivered my answer presently, and shut the door. It 
was impossible for me to compose myself to sleep after two such 
unexpected alarms ; for which reason I put on my clothes in a 
very peevish humour. I took several turns about my chamber, 
reflecting with a great deal of anger and contempt on these vol 
unteers in politics, that undergo all the pain, watchfulness, and dis 
quiet of a first minister, without turning it to the advantage eithei 
of themselves or their country ; and yet it is surprising to con- 
sider how numerous this species of men is. There is nothing 
more frequent than to find a taylor breaking his rest on the affairs 
of Europe, and to see a cluster of porters sitting upon the minis- 
try. Our streets swarm with politicians, and there is scarce a 
shop which is not held by a statesman. As I was musing after 
this manner, I heard the upholsterer at the door delivering a let- 
ter to my maid, and begging her in very great hurry, to give it to 
her master as soon as ever he was awake, which I opened, and 
found as follows: 

" Mr. BlCKERSTAFFE, 

"I was to wait upon you about a week ago, to let you know, 
that the honest gentlemen whom you conversed with upon the 
bench at the end of the Mall, having heard that I had received 
five shillings of you, to give you a hundred pounds upon the 



192 THE TATLER. [No. 160. 

Great Turk's being driven out of Europe, desired me to acquaint 
you that every one of that company would be willing to receive 
five shillings, to pay a hundred pounds on the same conditions. 
Our last advices from Muscovy making this a fairer bet than it 
was a week ago, I do not question but you will accept the wager. 

" But this is not my present business. If you remember, I 
whispered a word in your ear as we were walking up the Mall, 
and you see what has happened since. If I had seen you this 
morning, I would have told you in your ear another secret. I 
hope you will be recovered of your indisposition by to-morrow 
morning, when I will wait on you at the same hour as I did this ; 
my private circumstances being such, that I cannot well appear 
in this quarter of the town after it is day. 

" I have been so taken up with the late good news from Hol- 
land, and expectation of further particulars, as well as with other 
transactions, of which I will tell you more to-morrow morning 
that I have not slept a wink these three nights. 

" I have reason to believe, that Picardy will soon follow thr 
example of Artois, in case the enemy continue in their present 
resolution of flying away from us. I think I told you last time 
we were together my opinion about the Deulle. 

" The honest gentlemen upon the bench bid me tell you, they 
would be glad to see you often among them. We shall be there 
all the warm hours of the day during the present posture of 
affairs. 

'" This happy opening of the campaign will, I hope, give us a 
very joyful summer ; and I propose to take many a pleasant walk 
with you, if you will sometimes come into the Park ; for that is 
the only place in which I can be free from the malice of my en.o 
mies. Farewell till three-a-clock to-morrow morning. 

" I am your most humble servant," &r 

" P. S. The King of Sweden is still at Bender." 



NO. 161.] THE TATLER. 193 

I should have fretted myself to death at this promise of a 
second visit, if I had not found in his letter an intimation of the 
good news which I have since heard at large. I have, however, 
ordered my maid to tie up the knocker of my door, in such a 
manner as she would do if I was really indisposed. By which 
means I hope to escape breaking my morninp-'s rest. 



No. 161. THURSDAY, APRIL 20, 1710. 

Nunquam libertas gratior exstat 

Quam sub rege pio. 

From my own Apartment, April x„. 

I was walking two or three days ago in a very pleasing re- 
tirement, and amusing myself with the reading of a that ancient 
and beautiful allegory, called ' The table of Cebes. b I was at 
last so tired with my walk, that I sat down to rest myself upon 
a bench that stood in the midst of an agreeable shade. The 
music of the birds, that filled all the trees about me, lulled me 
asleep before I was aware of it ; which ° was followed by a dream, 
that I impute in some measure to the foregoing author, who had 
made an impression upon my imagination, and put me into his 
own way of thinking. 

I fancied myself among the Alps, d and, as it is natural m a 

a Better expunge " the reading of." 

fc Tlie table of Cebes. A fine moral allegory, but of a character wholly 
different from that which follows. This picturesque and sublime dream 
had been more naturally introduced, if the author of it had fallen asleep 
over a canto of Spenser. 

c Which — what ? " The being lulled asleep" carelessly expressed. 

d The Alps. The scenery of this vision, taken from Switzerland. — See 
the author's travels. 
vol. iv. — 9 



194 THE TATLER. [No. 161 

dream, seemed every moment to bound from one summit to an- 
other, till at last, after having made this airy progress over the 
tops of several mountains, I arrived at the very centre of those 
broken rocks and precipices. I here, methought, saw a prodi- 
gious circuit of hills, that reached above the clouds, and encom- 
passed a large space of ground, which I had a great curiosity to 
look into. I thereupon continued my former way of travelling 
through a great variety of winter scenes, till I had gained the 
top of these white mountains, which seemed another Alps of snow. 
I looked down from hence into a spacious plain, which was sur- 
rounded on all sides by this mound of hills, and which presented 
me with the most agreeable prospect I had ever seen. There was 
a greater variety of colours in the embroidery of the meadows, a 
more lively green in the leaves and grass, a brighter crystal in 
*k« streams, than what I ever met with in any other region. The 
light itself had something more shining and glorious in it than 
that of which the day is made in other places. I was wonder- 
fully astonished at the discovery of such a Paradise amidst the 
wildness of those cold hoary landscapes which lay about it ; but 
found at length, that this happy region was inhabited by ' The 
Goddess of Liberty; ' whose presence softened the rigours of 
the climate, enriched the barrenness of the soil, and more than 
supplied the absence of the sun. The place was covered with a 
wonderful profusion of flowers, that without being disposed into 
regular borders and parterres, grew promiscuously, and had a 
greater beauty in their natural luxuriancy and disorder, than they 
could have received from the checks and restraints of art. There 
was a river that arose out of the south side of the mountain, that 
by an infinite number of turns and windings, seemed to visit 
every plant, and cherish the several beauties of the spring, with 
which the fields abounded. After having run to and fro in a 
wonderful variety of meanders, it at last throws itself into the 



Nal61] THE TATLER. 195 

hollow of a mountain, from whence it passes under a long range 
of rocks, and at length rises in that part of the Alps where the 
inhabitants think it the first source of the Rhone. This river, 
after having made its progress through those free nations, stagnates 
in a huge lake at the leaving of them, and no sooner enters into 
the regions of slavery, but runs through them with an incredible 
rapidity, and takes its shortest way to the sea. 

I descended into the happy fields that lay beneath me, and in 
the midst of them, beheld the goddess sitting upon a throne. She 
had nothing to inclose her but the bounds of her own dominions, 
and nothing over her head but the heavens. Every glance of her 
eye cast a track of light where it fell, that revived the spring, and 
made all things smile about her. My heart grew cheerfu] at the 
sight of her, and as she looked upon me, I found a ceitain confi- 
dence growing in me, and such an inward resolution as I never 
felt before that time. 

On the left hand of the goddess sat the Genius of a Common- 
wealth, with the cap of liberty on her head, and in her hand a 
wand, like that with which a Roman citizen used to give his slaves 
their freedom. There was something mean and vulgar, but at the 
same time exceeding bold and daring, in her air ; her eyes were 
full of fire, but had in them such casts of fierceness and cruelty, 
as made her appear to me rather dreadful than amiable. On her 
shoulders she wore a mantle, on which there was wrought a great 
confusion of figures. As it flew in the wind, I could not discern 
the particular design of them, but saw wounds in the bodies of 
some, and agonies in the faces of others ; and over one part of it 
could read, in letters of blood, ' The Ides of March.' 

On the right hand of the goddess was the Genius of Monarchy. 
She was clothed in the whitest ermine, and wore a crown of the 
purest gold upon her head. In her hand she held a sceptre like 



196 THE TATLER. [No. 161. 

that which is borne by the British monarchs. a A couple of tame 
lions lay crouching at her feet : her countenance had in it a very 
great majesty, without any mixture of terror : her voice was like 
the voice of an angel, filled with so much sweetness, accompanied 
with such an air of condescension, as tempered the awfulness of 
her appearance, and equally inspired love and veneration into the 
hearts of all that beheld her. 

In the train of the Goddess of Liberty were the several Arts 
and Sciences, who all of them flourished underneath her eye. One 
of them in particular, made a greater figure than any of the rest, 
who held a thunder-bolt in her hand, which had the power of melt- 
ing, piercing, or breaking every thing that stood in its way. The 
name of this Goddess was Eloquence. 

T^ere were two other dependant goddesses, who made a very 
conspicuous figure in this blissful region. The first of them was 
seated upon an hill, that had every plant growing out of it, which 
the soil was in its own nature capable of producing. The other 
was seated in a little island, that was covered with groves of spices, 
olives, and orange-trees ; and in a word, with the products of every 
foreign clime. The name of the first was Plenty, of the second, 
Commerce. The first leaned her right arm upon a plough, and 
under her left held a huge horn, out of which she poured a whole 
autumn of fruits. The other wore a rostral crown upon her head, 
and kept her eyes fixed upon a compass. 

I was wonderfully pleased in ranging through this delightful 
place, and the more so, because it was not encumbered with fences 
and enclosures ; till at length, methought, I sprung from the 
ground, and pitched upon the top of an hill, that presented several 
objects to my sight, which I had not before taken notice of. The 

* A compliment to the well-tempered monarchy of his country, so finely 
conducted, as to he applicable, at the same time, to the personal virtues 01 
its Monarch. 



No 161.] THE TATLER. 197 

winds that passed over this flowery plain, anl through the tops of 
trees which were full of blossoms, blew upon me in such a contin 
ued breeze of sweets, that I was wonderfully charmed with my 
situation. I here saw all the inner declivities of that great cir- 
cuit of mountains, whose outside was covered with snow, over- 
grown with huge forests of fir-trees, a which, indeed, are very fre- 
quently found in other parts of the Alps. These trees were in- 
habited by storks, b that came thither in great flights from very 
distant quarters of the world. Methought I was pleased in my 
dream, to see what became of these birds, when, upon leaving the 
places to which they make an annual visit, they rise in great flocks 
so high till they are out of sight ; and for that reason have been 
thought by some modern philosophers to take a flight to the moon. 
But my eyes were soon diverted from this prospect, when I ob- 
served two great gaps that led through this circuit of mountains, 
where guards and watehes were posted day and night. Upon ex- 
amination I found, that there were two formidable enemies en- 
camped before each of these avenues, who kept the place in a per- 
petual alarm, and watched all opportunities of invading it. 

Tyranny was at the head of one of these armies, dressed in an 
Eastern habit, and grasping in her hand an iron sceptre. Behind 
her was Barbarity, with the garb and complexion of an ^Ethiopian ; 
Ignorance with a turban upon her head ; and Persecution holding 
up a bloody flag, embroidered with flower-de-luces. These were 
followed by Oppression, Poverty, Famine, Torture, and a dread- 
ful train of appearances, that made me tremble to behold them. 

a Mr-trees. Because this tree thrives best in mountainous countries, i. e. 
according to the author's idea, "in free countries." 

■ Inhabited by storks. Alluding to the notions that these birds are toba 
found only in republics. Whence the famous lines, 

" Lucretius, with a stork -like fate," 
"Brad and translated," in a state." 

Though by what he says of these birds flying to the moon, he would insin 
uete, I suppose, that one tradition was just as credible as the otb*»r. 



198 THE TATLER. [No. 162. 

Among the baggage of this army, I could discover racks, wheels, 
chains, and gibbets, with all the instruments art could invent to 
make human nature miserable. 

Before the other avenue I saw Licentiousness, dressed in a 
garment not unlike the Polish cassock, and leading up a whole 
army of monsters, such as Clamour, with a hoarse voice and a hun- 
dred tongues ; Confusion with a mis-shapen body and a thousand 
heads ; Impudence, with a forehead of brass ; and Rapine, with 
hands of iron. The tumult, noise, and uproar in this quarter 
were so very great, that they disturbed my imagination more than 
is consistent with sleep, and by that means awaked me. 



No. 162. SATURDAY, APRIL 22, 1710. 

Tertius e Caelo cecidit Oato. — Juv. Sat. 2. 

From my own Apartment, April 21. 
In my younger years I used many endeavours to get a place 
at court, and indeed continued my pursuits till I arrived at my 
grand climacteric ; but at length altogether despairing of success, 
whether it were for want of capacity, friends, or due application, 
I at last resolved to erect a new office, and for my encouragement, 
to place myself in it. For this reason, I took upon me the title 
and dignity of Censor of Great Britain, reserving to myself all 
such perquisites, profits and emoluments as should arise out of 
the discharge of the said office. These in truth have not been in- 
considerable ; for besides those weekly contributions which I re- 
ceive from John Morphew, 1 and those annual subscriptions which 
I propose to myself from the most elegant part of this great island, 
E daily live in a very comfortable affluence of wine, stale beer 

1 A printer connected with the publication of the Tatler. — G. 



tfo 162.] THE TATLER. 199 

Hungary water, beef, books, and marrow-bones, which I receive 
from many well-disposed citizens ; not to mention the forfeitures 
which accrue to me from the several offenders that appear before 
me on court days. 

Having now enjoyed this office for the space of a twelve- 
month, I shall do what all good officers ought to do, take a sur- 
vey of my behaviour, and consider carefully whether I have dis- 
charged my duty, and acted up to the character with which I am 
invested. For my direction in this particular, I have made a 
narrow search into the nature of the old Roman Censors, whom 
I must always regard, not only as my predecessors, but as my 
patterns in this great employment : and have several times asked 
my own heart with great impartiality, whether Cato will not bear 
a more venerable figure among posterity than Bickerstaffe ? 

I find the duty of the Roman Censor was twofold. The first 
part of it consisted in making frequent reviews of the people, in 
casting up their numbers, ranging them under their several 
tribes, disposing them into proper classes, and subdividing them 
into their respective centuries. 

In compliance with this part of the office, I have taken many 
curious surveys of this great city. I have collected into particu- 
lar bodies the dappers and the smarts, the natural and affected 
rakes, the pretty fellows and the very pretty fellows. I have 
likewise drawn out in several distinct parties, your pedants and 
men of fire, your gamesters and politicians. I have separated 
cits from citizens, free-thinkers from philosophers, wits from 
snuff-takers, and duellists from men of honour. I have likewise 
made a calculation of esquires, not only considering the several 
distinct swarms of them that are settled in the different parts of 
this town, but also, that more rugged species that inhabit the 
fields and woods, and are often found in pot houses, and upon hay 
'io.)ks. 



200 THE TATLER. [No. 162 

I shall pass the soft sex over in silence, having not yet re- 
duced them into any tolerable order ; as likewise the softer tribe 
of lovers, which will cost me a great deal of time, before I shall 
be able to cast them into their several centuries and subdivisions. 

The second part of the Roman Censor's office was to look 
into the manners of the people, and to check any growing luxury, 
whether in diet, dress, or building. This duty, likewise, I have 
endeavoured to discharge, by those wholesome precepts which I 
have given my countrymen in regard to beef and mutton, and the 
severe censures which I have passed upon ragouts and fricassees. 
There is not, as I am informed, a pair of red heels to be seen 
within ten miles of London, which I may likewise ascribe, with- 
out vanity, to the becoming zeal which I expressed in that parti- 
cular. I must own, my success with the petticoat is not so 
great ; but as I have not yet done with it, I hope I shall, in a 
little time, put an effectual stop to that growing evil. As for the 
article of building, I intend hereafter to enlarge upon it, having 
lately observed several ware-houses, nay, private shops, that 
stand upon Corinthian pillars, and whole rows of tin pots show- 
ing themselves, in order to their sale, through a sash window. 

I have likewise followed the example of the Roman Censors, 
in punishing offences according to the quality of the offender. 
It was usual for them to expel a senator who had been guilty of 
great immoralities out of the senate house, by omitting his name 
when they called over the list of his brethren. In the same man- 
ner, to remove effectually several worthless men who stand pos- 
sessed of great honours, I have made frequent draughts of dead 
men out of the vicious part of the nobility, and given them up to 
the new society of upholders, with the necessary orders for their 
interment. As the Roman Censors used to punish the knights 
or gentlemen of Rome, by taking away their horses from them, I 
have seized the canes of many criminals of figure, whom I had 



$0 162.] . THE TATLER. 20 [ 

just reason to animadvert upon. As for the offenders among the 
common people of Rome, they were generally chastised, by being 
thrown out of a higher tribe, and placed in one which was not so 
honourable. My reader cannot but think I have had an eye to 
this punishment, when I have degraded one species of men into 
bombs, squibs, and crackers, 1 and another into drums, bass- 
viols, and bagpipes ; 2 not to mention whole packs of delinquents 
whom I have shut up in kennels, and the new hospital 3 which I 
am at present erecting, for the reception of those of my country- 
men who give me but little hopes of their amendment, on the 
borders of Moorfields. I shall only observe upon this particular, 
that since some late surveys I have taken of this island, I shall 
think it necessary to enlarge the plan of the buildings which I 
design in this quarter. 

When my great predecessor Cato the elder stood for the 
censorship of Rome, there were several other competitors who of- 
fered themselves : and to get an interest among the people, gave 
them great promises of the mild and gentle treatment which 
they would use towards them in that office. Cato on the con- 
trary told them, he presented himself as a candidate, because he 
knew the age was sunk in immorality and corruption ; and that 
if they would give him their votes, he would promise them to 
make use of such a strictness and severity of discipline as should 
recover them out of it. The Roman historians, upon this occa 
sion, very much celebrated the public-spiritedness of that people 
who chose Cato for their Censor, notwithstanding his method of 
recommending himself. I may in some measure extol my own 
countrymen upon the same account, who. without any respect to 
party, or any application from myself, have made such generous 
subscriptions for the Censor of Great Britain, as will give a mag- 
nificence to my old age, and which I esteem more than I would 

1 No. 188. 2 153— 156 3 m— 141 

VOL. iv. — 9* 



*202 THE TA1LEE. [No. 163. 

any post in Europe of an hundred times the value. I shall only 
add, that upon looking into my catalogue of subscribers, which I 
intend to print alphabetically in the front of my lucubrations, I 
find the names of the greatest beauties and wits in the whole 
island of Great Britain, which I only mention for the benefit of 
any of them who have not yet subscribed, it being my design to 
close the subscription in a very short time. 



No. 163. THURSDAY, APRIL 25, 1710. 

Idem inficeto est inficetior rure 

Simul poemata attigit ; neque idem unquam 

JEque est beatus, ac poema cum scribit: 

Tam gaudet in se, tamque se ipse miratur. 

Nimirum idem omnes fallimur ; neque est quisquam 

Quern non in aliqua re videre Suffenum 

Possis Catul. de Suffeno. 

Will's Coffee-house, April 24. 
I yesterday came hither about two hours before the com' 
pany generally make their appearance, with a design to read over 
all the newspapers ; but upon my sitting down, I was accosted by 
Ned Softly, who saw me from a corner in the other end of the 
room, where I found he had been writing something. Mr. Bick- 
erstaffe, (says he) I observe by a late paper of yours, that you 
and I are just of a humour ; for you must know, of all imper- 
tinencies, there is nothing which I so much hate as news. I 
never read a Gazette in my life; and never trouble my head 
about our armies, whether they win or lose, or in what part of 
the world they lie encamped. Without giving me time to reply, 
he drew a paper of verses out of his pocket, telling me, that he 
had something which would entertain me more agreeably, and 
that he would desire my judgment upon every line, for that we 
had time enough before us till the company came in. 



No. 163.] THE TATLER. 203 

Ned Softly is a very pretty poet, and a great admirer of easy 
lines. Waller is his favourite : and as that admirable writer has 
the best and worst verses of any among our English poets, Ned 
Softly has got all the bad ones without book, which he repeats 
upon occasion, to show his reading, and garnish his conversation. 
Ned is indeed a true English reader, incapable of relishing the 
great and masterly strokes of this art ; but wonderfully pleased 
with the little Gothic ornaments of epigrammatical conceits, 
turns, points, and quibbles, which are so frequent in the most ad- 
mired of our English poets, and practised by those who want 
genius and strength to represent, after the manner of the an- 
cients, simplicity in its natural beauty and perfection. 

Finding myself unavoidably engaged in such a conversation, 
I was resolved to turn my pain into a pleasure, and to divert my- 
self as well as I could with so very odd a fellow. ' You must un- 
derstand, (says Ned) that the sonnet I am going to read to you 
was written upon a lady, who showed me some verses of her own 
making, and is, perhaps, the best poet of our age. But you shall 
near it.' Upon which he began to read as follows : 

•TO MIRA ON HER INCOMPARABLE POEM. 



'When dress'd in laurel wreaths you shine, 
And tune your soft melodious notes, 
You seem a sister of the Nine, 
Or Phoebus' self in petticoats. 

II. 

« I fancy, when your song you sing, 

(Your song you sing with so much art) 
Your pen was pluck'd from Cuj id's wing 
For ah ! it wounds me like his dart.' 

' Why, (says I) this is a little nosegay of conceits, a very 



204 THE TATLER. [No 16S 

lump of salt : every verse hath something in it that piques ; and 
then the dart in the last line is certainly as pretty a sting in the 
tail of an epigram (for so I think your critics call it) as ever en- 
tered into the thought of a poet.' ' Dear Mr. Bickerstafle, (says 
he) shaking me by the hand, every body knows you to be a judge 
of these things ; and to tell you truly, I read over Roscommon's 
translation of Horace's Art of Poetry three several times, before 
T sat down to write the sonnet which I have shown you. But 
you shall hear it again, and pray observe every line of it, for not 
one of them shall pass without your approbation. 

' When dress'd in laurel wreaths you shine.' 

* That is, (says he) when you have your garland on ; when you 
are writing verses.' To which I replied, l 1 know your meaning 
a metaphor ! ' ' The same, ' said he, and went on : 

'And tune your soft melodious notes.' 

' Pray observe the gliding of that verse ; there is scarce a 
consonant in it: I took care to make it run upon liquids. Give 
me your opinion of it.' 'Truly, (said I) I think it is as good as 
the former.' ' I am very glad to hear you say so, (says he :) but 
mind the next : ' 

'You seem a sister of the Nine.' 

' That is, (says he) you seem a sister of the Muses ; for if you 
look into ancient authors, you will find it was their opinion, that 
there were nine of them.' ' I remember it very well, (said I ;) 
but pray proceed.' 

'Or Phoebus' self ir petticoats.' 

1 Phoebus (says he) was the god of poetry. These little in- 
stances, Mr. Bickerstaffe, show a gentleman's reading. Then to 
take off from the air of learning, which Phoebus and .ihe Muses 



No. 163.] THE TATLER. 205 

have given to this first stanza, you may observe, how it falls all 
of a sudden into the familiar ; in petticoats ! 

' Or Phoebus' self in petticoats.' 

Let us now, (says I) enter upon the second stanza. I find the 
first line is still a continuation of the metaphor. 

*1 fancy when your song you sing.' 

It is very right, (says he ;) but pray observe the turn of words 
in those two lines. I was a whole hour in adjusting of them, 
and have still a doubt upon me, whether in the second line it 
should be, ' Your song you sing ; ' or, ' You sing your song.' 
You shall hear them both ; ' 

1 1 fancy when your song you sing, 

(Your song you sing with so much art.)' 



'I fancy when your song you sing, 

(You sing your song with so much art.)' " ■ 

1 Truly, (said I) the turn is so natural either way, that you 
have made me almost giddy with it.' ' Dear sir, (said he, grasp- 
ing me by the hand,) you have a great deal of patience ; but 
pray what do you think of the next verse ? ' 

4 Your pen was pluck'd from Cupid's wing.' 

' Think ! (says I ;) I think you have made Cupid look like a 
little goose.' ' That was my meaning, (says he) I think the ridi 
cule is well enough hit off. But we now come to the last, which 
sums up the whole matter.' 

'For ah! it wounds me like his dart.' 

' Pray how do you like that ah ? doth it not make a pretty 
figure in that place ? Ah ! it looks as if I felt the dart, and 
cried out at being pricked with it.' 



•AQQ THE TATLER. [No. 165. 

( For ah ! it wounds me like his dart.' 

* My friend Dick Easy (continued he) assured me, he would 
rather have written that ah ! than to a have been the author of 
the iEneid. He indeed objected, that I made Mira's pen like a 
quill in one of the lines, and like a dart in the other. But as to 

that ' * Oh ! as to that, (says I) it is but supposing Cupid 

to be like a porcupine, and his quills and darts will be the same 
thing.' He was going to embrace me for the hint; but half a 
dozen critics coming into the room, whose faces he did not like, 
he conveyed the sonnet into his pocket, and whispered me in the 
ear, he would show it me again as soon as his man had written it 
over fair. b 



No. 165. SATURDAY, APRIL 29. 1710. 

From my own Apartment, April 28. 
It has always been my endeavour to distinguish between 
realities and appearances, and to separate true merit from the 
pretence to it. As it shall ever be my study to make discoveries 
of this nature in human life, arid to settle the proper distinctions 
between the virtues and perfections of mankind, and those false 
colours and resemblances of them that shine alike in the eyes of 
the vulgar ; so I shall be more particularly careful to search into 
the various merits and pretences of the learned world. This is 
the more necessary, because there seems to be a general combi- 
nation among the pedants to extol one another's labours, and cry 

a To should be left out. 

b The humour of this paper is fine ; but not original. Ned Softly is 
slip of Bays, in the rehearsal : 



-Parnassia laurus, 



Parva sub ingenti matris se subjicit umbra." 
fand both probably of the sonneteering Marquis in the Misanthrope — (l.l 



No. 165.] THE TATLER. 207 

up one another's parts ; while men of sense, either through that 
modesty which is natural to them, or the scorn they have for 
such trifling commendations, enjoy their stock of knowledge like 
a hidden treasure with satisfaction and silence. Pedantry, in- 
deed, in learning, is like hypocrisy in religion, a form of knowl- 
edge without the power of it, that attracts the eyes of the com- 
mon people, breaks out in noise and show, and finds its reward, 
not from* any inward pleasure that attends it, but from the 
praises and approbations which it receives from men. 

Of this shallow species there is not a more importunate, 
empty, and conceited animal, than that which is generally known 
by the name of a critic. This, in the common acceptation of the 
word, is one that, without entering into the sense and soul of an 
author, has a few general rules, which, like mechanical instru- 
ments, he applies to the works of every writer, and as they quad- 
rate with them, pronounces the author perfect or defective. He 
is master of a certain set of words, as Unity, Style, Fire, Phlegm, 
Easy, Natural, Turn, Sentiment, and the like ; which he varies, 
compounds, divides, and throws together, in every part of his 
discourse, without any thought or meaning. The marks you 
may know him by are, an elevated eye, and dogmatical brow, a 
positive voice, and a contempt for every thing that comes out, 
whether he has read it or not. He dwells altogether in generals. 
He praises or dispraises in the lump. He shakes his head very 
frequently at the pedantry of universities, and bursts into laugh- 
ter when you mention an author that is known at Will's. b He 
hath formed his judgment upon Homer, Horace, and Virgii, not 
from their own works, but from those of Kapin and Bossu. He 

* Finds its reward from. He should have said "in" the proper preposi- 
tion, after "find: " what determined his choice of "from" was the jingle 
of — •' in any inward " — But the sentence might ha* e been turned differ- 
ently. 

»> 0. F. That is not known at Will's. — K 



208 THE TATLER. [No. 165 

knows his own strength so well, that he never dares praise any 
thing in which he has not a French author for his voucher. 

With these extraordinary talents and accomplishments, Sir 
Timothy Tittle 1 puts men in vogue, or condemns them to obscu- 
rity, and $its as judge of life and death upon every author that 
appears in public. It is impossible to represent the pangs, ago- 
nies, and convulsions, which Sir Timothy expresses in every fea- 
ture of his face, and muscle of his body, upon the reading of a 
bad poet. 

About a week ago I was engaged at a friend's house of mine 
in an agreeable conversation with his wife and daughters, when 
in the height of our mirth, Sir Timothy, who makes love to my 
friend's eldest daughter, came in amongst us puffing and blowing 
as if he had been very much out of breath. He immediately 
called for a chair, and desired leave to sit down, without any 
further ceremony. I asked him, ' Where he had been ? Wheth- 
er he was out of order ? ' He only replied, that he was quite 
spent, and fell a cursing in soliloquy. I could hear him cry, ' A 
wicked rogue ! — An execrable wretch ! — Was there ever such a 
monster !' — The young ladies upon this began to be affrighted, 
and asked, ' Whether any one had hurt him ?' He answered 
nothing but still talked to himself. i To lay the first scene (says 
he) in St. James's Park, and the last in Northamptonshire ! ' 
' Is that all ! (says I ;) Then I suppose you have been at the re- 
hearsal of a play this morning.' * Been ! (says he ;) I have been 
at Northampton, in the Park, in a lady's bed-chamber, in a dining- 
room, every where ; the rogue has led me such a dance ! ' — 
Though I could scarce forbear laughing at his discourse, I told 
him I was glad it was no worse, and that he was only metaphori- 
cally weary. ' In short, sir, (says he) the author has not ob- 
served a single unity in his whole play: the scene shifts in every 
1 Henry Cromwell. — V. Nichols. — Gr. 



flo 165.] THE TATLER. 209 

dialogue ; the villain has hurried me up and down at such a rate, 
that I am tired off my legs. I could not but observe with some 
pleasure, that the young lady whom he made love to, conceived a 
very just aversion towards him, upon seeing him so very passion- 
ate in trifles. And as she had that natural sense which makes 
her a better judge than a thousand critics, she began to rally him 
upon this foolish humour. ' For my part (says she,) I never 
knew a play take that was written up to your rules, as you call 
them.' * How madam ! (says he,) is that your opinion ? I am sure 
you have a better taste.' { It is a pretty kind of magic, (says 
she) the poets have to transport an audience from place to place 
without the help of a coach and horses. I could travel round 
the world at such a rate. 'Tis such an entertainment as an en- 
chantress finds when she fancies herself in a wood, or upon a 
mountain, at a feast, or a solemnity; though at the same time 
she has never stirred out of her cottage.' ' Your simile, madam, 
(says Sir Timothy,) is by no means just.' ' Pray, (says she) let 
my similes pass without a criticism. I must confess, (continued 
she, for I found she was resolved to exasperate him) I laughed 
very heartily at the last new comedy which you found so much 
fault with.' l But, madam, (says he,) you ought not to have 
laughed ; and I defy any one to show me a single rule that you 
could laugh by.' ' Ought not to laugh ! (says she :) Pray who 
should hinder me?' ' Madam, (says he,) there are such people in 
the world as Rapin, Dacier, and several others, that ought to 
have spoiled your mirth.' ' I have heard, (says the young lady,) 
that your great critics are always very bad poets ; I fancy there 
is as much difference between the works of one and the other, as 
there is between the carriage of a dancing-master and a gentle- 
man I must confess, (continued she,) I would not be troubled 
with so fine a judgment as yours is ; for I find you feel more vex- 
ation in a bad comedy, than I do in a deep tragedy.' ' Madam 



210 THE TATLEE. [No. 192. 

(says Sir Timothy), that is not my fault; they should learn the 
art of writing.' ' For my part, (says the young lady,) I should 
think the greatest art in your writers of comedies is to please.' 
* To please ! ' (says Sir Timothy :) and immediately fell a laugh- 
ing. ' Truly, (says she), that is my opinion.' Upon this, he 
composed his countenance, looked upon his watch, and took his 
leave. 

I hear that Sir Timothy has not been at my friend's house 
since this notable conference, to the satisfaction of the young la- 
dy, who by this means has got rid of a very impertinent fop. 

I must confess, I could not but observe, with a great deal of 
surprise, how this gentleman, by his ill-nature, folly, and affecta- 
tion, hath made himself capable of suffering so many imaginary 
pains, and looking with such a senseless severity upon the com- 
mon diversions of life. 



No. 192. SATURDAY, JULY 1, 1710. 

Tecum vivere amem, tecum obeam libens. — Hob. 

From my own Apartment, June 30. 
Some years since I was engaged with a coach full of friends to 
take a journey as far as the Land's-end. We were very well 
pleased with one another the first day, every one endeavouring 
to recommend himself by his good humour and complaisance to 
the rest of the company. This good correspondence did not last 
long ; one of our party was soured the very first evening by a 
plate of butter which had not been melted to his mind, and 
which spoiled his temper to such a degree, that he continued up- 
on the fret to the end of our journey. A second fell off from his 
good humour the next morning, for no other reason that I could 



>0. 192.] THE TATLER. 21 

imagine, bat because I chanced to step into the coach before him, 
and place myself on the shady side. This, however, was but my 
own private guess, for he did not mention a word of it, nor indeed 
of any thing else, for three days following. The rest of our com- 
pany held out very near half the way, when of a sudden Mr. 
Sprightly fell asleep ; and instead of endeavouring to divert and 
oblige us, as he had hitherto done, carried himself with an un- 
concerned, careless, drowsy behaviour, till we came to our last 
stage. There were three of us who still held up our heads, and 
did all we could to make our journey agreeable ; but, to my 
shame be it spoken, about three miles on this side Exeter, I was 
taken with an unaccountable fit of sullenness, that hung upon me 
fo** above threescore miles ; whether it were for want of respect, 
or from an accidental tread upon my foot, or from a foolish 
maid's calling me The old Gentleman, I cannot tell. In short, 
there was but one who kept his good humour to the Land's-end. 
There was another coach that went along with us, in which I 
likewise observed, that there were many secret jealousies, heart- 
burnings, and animosities : for when we joined companies at 
night, I could not but take notice, that the passengers neglected 
their own company, and studied how to make themselves es- 
teemed by us, who were altogether strangers to them : till at 
length they grew so well acquainted with us, that they liked us 
as little as they did one another. When I reflect upon this jour- 
ney, I often fancy it to be a picture of human life, in respect to 
the several friendships, contracts, and alliances, that are made 
and dissolved in the several periods of it. The most delightful 
and most lasting engagements are generally those which pass 
between man and woman ; and yet upon what trifles are they 
weakened, or entirely broken ? Sometimes the parties fly asun 
der even in the midst of courtship, and sometimes gro^r cool in 
4 e very honey-month. Some separate before the firs t child, and 



212 THE TATLER. [No. 192. 

some after the fifth ; others continue good till thirty, others till 
forty ; while some few, whose souls are of an happier make, and 
better fitted to one another, travel on together to the end of their 
journey, in a continual intercourse of kind offices and mutual 
endearments. 

When we, therefore, chuse our companions for life, if we 
hope to keep both them and ourselves in good humour to the 
last stage of it, we must be extremely careful in the choice we 
make, as well as in the conduct on our own part. When the 
persons to whom we join ourselves can stand an examination, 
and bear the scrutiny, when they mend upon our acquaintance 
with them, and discover new beauties the more we search into 
their characters, our love will naturally rise in proportion to 
their perfections. 

But because there are very few possessed of such accomplish- 
ments of body and mind, we ought to look after those qualifica- 
tions both in ourselves and others, which are indispensably ne- 
cessary towards this happy union, and which are in the power of 
every one to acquire, or at least to cultivate and improve. 
These, in my opinion, are cheerfulness and constancy. A cheer- 
ful temper joined with innocence, will make beauty attractive, 
knowledge delightful, and wit good-natured. It will lighten 
sickness, poverty, and affliction; convert ignorance into an amia- 
ble simplicity, and render deformity itself agreeable. 

Constancy is natural to persons of even tempers and uniform 
dispositions, and may be acquired by those of the greatest fickle- 
ness, violence, and passion, who consider seriously the terms of 
union upon which they come together, the mutual interest in 
which they are engaged, with all the motives that ought to incite 
their tenderness and compassion towards those who have their 
dependance upon them, and are embarked with them for life in 
the same state of happiness or misery. Constancy, when it 



No. 192.] THE TATLER. 213 

grows in the mind upon considerations of this nature, becomes a 
moral virtue, and a kind of good-nature, that is not subject to 
any change of health, age, fortune, or any of those accidents 
which are apt to unsettle the best dispositions that are founded 
rather in constitution than in reason. 8 Where such a constancy 
as this is wanting, the most inflamed passion may fall away into 
coldness and indifference, and the most melting tenderness de- 
generate into hatred and aversion. I shall conclude this paper 
with a story that is very well known in the North of England. 

About thirty years ago, a packet-boat that had several pas- 
sengers on board was cast away upon a rock, and in so great 
danger of sinking, that all who were in it endeavoured to save 
themselves as well as they could, though only those who could 
iwim well had a bare possibility of doing it. Among the passen- 
gers there were two women of fashion, who seeing themselves in 
such a disconsolate condition, begged of their husbands not to 
leave them. One of them chose rather to die with his wife, than 
to forsake her ; the other, though he was moved with the utmost 
jompassion for his wife, told her, that for the good of their chil- 
dren, it was better one of them should live, than both perish. 
By a great piece of good luck, next to a miracle, when one of our 
good men had taken the last and long farewell in order to save 
himself, and the other held in his arms the person that was dear- 
er to him than life, the ship was preserved. It is with a secret 
sorrow and vexation of mind that I must tell the sequel of the 
story, and let my reader know, that this faithful pair who were 
ready to have died in each others arms, about three years after 
their escape, upon some trifling disgust, grew to a coldness at 
first, and at length fell out to such a degree, that they left one 

* The last part of this sentence is strung together with too many rela- 
tives — that — which — that. The following sentence, too, is not exact — "in- 
flamed passion fall away — melting tenderness degenerate." — The metaphor 
cot well pursued. 



214 THE TATLER. [No. 216. 

another, an 1 parted for ever. The other couple lived together 
in an uninterrupted friendship and felicity , and what was re- 
markable, the husband whom the shipwreck had like to have 
separated from his wife, died a few months after her, not being 
able to survive the loss of her. a 

I must confess, there is something in the changeableness and 
inconstancy of human nature, that very often both dejects and 
terrifies me. Whatever I am at present, I tremble to think what 
I may be. While I find this principle in me, how can I assure 
myself, that I shall be always true to my God, my friend, or 
myself? in short, without constancy there is neither love, friend- 
ship, or virtue in the world. 



No. 216. SATURDAY, AUGUST 26, 1710. 

Nugis addere pondus. 

From my own Apartment, August 25. 

Nature is full of wonders , every atom is a standing miracle, 
and endowed with such qualities, as could not be impressed on it 
by a power and wisdom less than infinite. For this reason, I 
would not discourage any searches that are made into the most 
minute and trivial parts of the creation. However, since the 
world abounds in the noblest fields of speculation, it is, methinks, 
the mark of a little genius to be wholly conversant among insects, 
reptiles, animalcules, and those trifling rarities that furnish out 
the apartment of a virtuoso. 

There are some men whose heads are so oddly turned this 
way, that though they are utter strangers to the common occur- 

a Therythm of this sentence hurt by the repetition of "her" — ' after 
her'' — "loss of her." 



No. 216] THE TATLER. 215 

rences of life, they are able to discover the sex of a cockle, or 
describe the generation of a mite, in all its circumstances. They 
are so little versed in the world, that they scarce know a horse 
from an ox ; but at the same time will tell you, with great deal 
of gravity, that a flea is a rhinoceros, and a snail an hermaphro- 
dite. I have known one of these whimsical philosophers who 
has set a greater value upon a collection of spiders than he would 
upon a flock of sheep, and has sold his coat off his back to pur- 
chase a tarantula.* 

I would not have a scholar wnolly unacquainted with these 
secrets and curiosities of nature ; but certainly the mind of man, 
that is capable of so much higher contemplations, should not be 
altogether fixed upon such mean and disproportioned objects. 
Observations of this kind are apt to alienate us too much from 
the knowledge of the world, and to make us serious upon trifles, 
by which means they expose philosophy to the ridicule of the 
witty, and the contempt of the ignorant. In short, studies of 
this nature should be the diversions, relaxations, and amusements, 
not the care, business, and concern of life. 

It is indeed wonderful to consider, that there should be a 
sort of learned men who are wholly employed in gathering to- 
gether the refuse of nature, if I may call it so, and hoarding up 
in their chests and cabinets such creatures as others indus- 
triously avoid the sight of. One does not know how to mention 
some of the most precious parts of their treasure, without a kind 
of an apology for it. I have been shewn a beetle valued at 
twenty crowns, and a toad at an hundred : but we must take this 
for a general rule, that whatever appears trivial or obscene in 
the common notions of the world, looks grave and philosophical 
in the eye of a virtuoso. 

To show this humour it. its perfection, I shall present my 
a V. No. 47.— [K] 



216 THE TATLER. [No. 216 

reader with the legacy of a certain virtuoso, who laid out a con- 
siderable estate in natural rarities and curiosities, which upon 
his death-bed he bequeathed to his relations and friends in the 
following words : 

THE WILL OF A VIRTUOSO. 

I Nicholas Gimcrack, being in sound health of mind, but 
in great weakness of body, do by this my last will and testa- 
ment, bestow my worldly goods and chattels in manner follow- 
ing : 

Imprimis, To my dear wife, 

One box of butterflies, 
One drawer of shells, 
A female skeleton, 
A dried cockatrice. 

Item, To my daughter Elizabeth, 
My receipt for preserving dead caterpillars. 
As also my preparations of winter May-dew, and embrio 
pickle. 

Item, To my little daughter Fanny, 

Three crocodile's eggs. 
And upon the birth of her first child, if she marries with her 
mother's consent, 

The nest of an humming-bird. 

Item, To my eldest brother, as an acknowledgment for the 
lands he has vested in my son Charles, I bequeath 

My last year's collection of grasshoppers. 

Item, To his daughter Susannah, being his only child, I be- 
queath my 



No. 216.] THE TATLER, 217 

English weeds pasted on royal paper, 
With my large folio of Indian cabbage. 

Item, To my learned and worthy friend Dr. Johannes Els 
crickius, professor in anatomy, and my associate in the studies 
of nature, as an eternal monument of my affection and friend- 
ship for him, I bequeath 

My rat's testicles, and 

Whale's pizzle.-, 
To him and his issue male ; and in default of such issue in the 
said Dr. Elscrickius, then to return to my executor and his 
heirs for ever. 

Having fully provided for my nephew Isaac, by making over 
to him some years since 

A horned scarabseus, 

The skin of a rattle-snake, and 

The mummy of an Egyptian king, 

I make no further provision for him in this my will. 

My eldest son, John, having spoken disrespectfully of his 
little sister whom I keep by me in spirits of wine, and in man} 
other instances behaved himself undutifully towards me, I do 
disinherit, and wholly cut off from any part of this my personal 
estate, by giving him a single cockle-shell. 

To my second son, Charles, I give and bequeath all my flow- 
ers, plants, minerals, mosses, shells, pebbles, fossils, beetles, 
butterflies, caterpillars, grasshoppers, and vermin, not above spe- 
cified : as also all my monsters, both wet and dry, making the 
said Charles whole and sole executor of this my last will and 
testament ; he paying, or causing to be paid, the aforesaid lega- 
cies within the space of six months after my decease. And I do 
hereby revoke all other wills whatsoever by me formerly made. 
vol. iv. — 10 



218 THE TATLER. [No. 218. 

ADVERTISEMENT. 

"Whereas an ignorant upstart in astrology, has publicly en 
deavoured to persuade the world, that he is the late John Par- 
tridge, who died the 28th of March 1708; these are to certify 
all whom it may concern, tnat the true John Partridge was not 
only dead at that time, but continues so to this present day. 

Beware of counterfeits, for such are abroad. 



Eo. 218. THURSDAY, AUGUST 30, 1710. 

Scrlptorum Chorus omnis amat nemus et fugit urbes. — Hob. 

From my own Apartment, August 80. 
I chanced to rise very early one particular morning this 
summer, and took a walk into the country to divert myself among 
the fields and meadows, while the green was new, and the flowers 
in their bloom. As at this season of the year every lane is a 
beautiful walk, and every hedge full of nosegays, 8 I lost myself 
with a great deal of pleasure among several thickets and bushes 
that were filled with a great variety of birds, and an agreeable 
confusion of notes, b which formed the pleasantest scene in the 

a Nosegay. An oddly compounded word, if we take gay in the sense 
of fine or showy, expressing, together, the effect which flowers have on the 
sight and smell. Rut gay, in the primary sense of the word, is that which 
cheers, refreshes, or delights : and derived like gaudy from " gaudere." In 
this view, the composition is more natural and proper, However, the 
word itself, is, now, much out of use. 

b Filled with — birds, and — notes. We may say of a thicket, that it is 
filled with birds, or filled with the notes of birds, but not at the same time : 
because the word, filled, must, then, 'be taken in a different sense, as ap- 
plied to each; in a literal sense, when connected with birds, and, a meta- 
phorical sen^e, as joined to the notes of birds: whence ai'ises a degree of 
quaintness and confusion. 

c WliJch formed. That is, which birds and notes formed: but one doea 
not see how birds and notes can be said to form a %cene. In short, th» 



No. 218.] THE TATLER. 219 

world to one who had passed a whole winter in noise and smoke. 
The freshness of the dews that lay upon every thing about me, 
with the cool breath of the morning, which inspired the birds 
with so many delightful instincts, created in me the same kind 
of animal pleasure, and made my heart overflow with such secret 
emotions of joy and satisfaction as are not to be described or ac- 
counted for. On this occasion, I could not but reflect upon a 
beautiful simile in Milton : 

' As one who long in populous city pent, 
Where houses thick, and sewers, annoy the air, 
Forth issuing on a summer's morn, to breathe 
Among the pleasant villages, and farms 
Adjoin'd, from each thing met conceives delight : 
The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine, 
Or dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound.' 

Those who are conversant in the writings of polite authors, 
receive an additional entertainment from the country, as it re- 
vives in their memories those charming descriptions with which 
such authors do frequently abound.* 

I was thinking of the foregoing beautiful simile in Milton, 
and applying it to myself, when I observed to the windward of 
me a black cloud falling to the earth in long trails of rain, which 
made me betake myself for shelter to a house which I saw at a 
little distance from the place where I was walking. As I sat in 
the porch, I heard the voices of two or three persons, who seemed 
very earnest in discourse. My curiosity was raised when I heard 
the names of Alexander the Great and Artaxerxes ; and as their 

whole sentence is heavy and inaccurate. Bat the author makes amends 
in what follows. 

a With which such authors do frequently abound. One wonders to find 
the expletive "do" inserted in this place. It was to prevent the close of 
this paragraph from running into a verse : — 

"With which such authors frequently abound." 
He might have said, "which are frequent in such authors." 



£20 THE TATLER. [Eo. 218 

Ulk seemed to run on ancient heroes, I concluded there could 
not be any secret in it ; for which reason I thought I might very 
fairly listen to what they said. 

After several parallels between great men, which appeared to 
me altogether groundless and chimerical, I was surprised to hear 
one say, ' That he valued the Black Prince more than the Duke 
of Yendosme.' How the Duke of Vendosme should become a 
rival of the Black Prince's, I could not conceive : and was more 
startled, when I heard a second affirm with great vehemence, 
1 That if the emperor of Germany was not going off, he should like 
him better than either of them.' He added, ' That though the 
season was so changeable, the Duke of Marlborough was in 
blooming beauty.' I was wondering to myself from whence they 
had received this odd intelligence, especially when I heard them 
mention the names of several other great generals, as the Prince 
of Hesse, and the King of Sweden, who, they said, were both 
running away. To which they added, what I entirely agreed 
with them in, ' That the Crown of France was very weak, but 
that the Marshal Villars still kept his colours.' At last one of 
them told the company, ' If they would go along with him, he 
would show them a Chimney Sweeper and a Painted Lady in the 
same bed, which he was sure would very much please them.' 
The shower which had driven them, as well as myself, into the 
house was now over : and as they were passing by me into the 
garden, I asked them to let me be one of their company. 

The gentleman of the house told me, i If I delighted in flow- 
ers, it would be worth* my while, for that he believed he could 
show me such a blow of tulips as was not to be matched in the 
whole country.' 

I accepted the offer, and immediately found that they had 
been talking in terms of gardening, and that the kings and gen- 
erals they had mentioned were only so many tulips, to which the 



No. 218.] THE TATLExv. 221 

gardeners, according to their usual custom, had given such high 
titles and appellations of honour. 

I was very much pleased and astonished at the glorious show 
of these gay vegetables, that arose in great profusion on all the 
banks about us. Sometimes I considered them, with the eye of 
an ordinary spectator, as so many beautiful objects, varnished 
over with a natural gloss, and stained with such a variety of col 
ours, as are not to be equalled in any artificial dyes or tinctures. 
Sometimes I considered every leaf as an elaborate piece of tissue, 
in which the threads and fibres were woven together into different 
configurations, which gave a different colouring to the light as it 
glanced on the several parts of the surface. Sometimes I con 
sidered the whole bed of tulips, according to the notion of the 
greatest mathematician and philosopher that ever lived, 8, as a mul- 
titude of optic instruments, designed for the separating light into 
all those various colours of which it is composed. 

I was awakened out of these my philosophical speculations, 
by observing the company often seemed to laugh at me. I acci- 
dentally praised a tulip as one of the finest I ever saw ; upon 
which they told me, it was a common Fool's-coat. Upon that I 
praised a second, which it seems was but another kintl of Fool's- 
coat. I had the same fate with two or three more ; for which 
reason I desired the owner of the garden to let me know which 
were the finest of the flowers, for that I was so unskilful in the 
art, that I thought the most beautiful were the most valuable, 
and that those which had the gayest colours were the most 
beautiful. The gentleman smiled at my ignorance : he seemed 
a very plain honest man, and a person of good sense, had not his 
head been touched with that distemper which Hippocrates calls 
the Tulippo- Mania, IvXnnroixavia ; insomuch that he would teil> 
very rationally on any subject in the world but a tulip. 
a Newton. — N. 



^22 THE TATLER. L^O. 218. 

He told me, ' That he valued the bed of flowers which lay 
before us, and was not above twenty yards in length, and two in 
breadth, more than he would the best hundred acres of land in 
England ; ' and added ' That it would have been worth twice the 
money it is, if a foolish cook-maid of his had not almost ruined 
him the last winter, by mistaking an handful of tulip-roots for an 
heap of onions, and by that means (says he) made me a dish of 
pottage, that cost me above 10001. sterling.' He then showed 
me what he thought the finest of his tulips, which I found re- 
ceived all their value from their rarity and oddness, and put me 
in mind of your great fortunes, which are not always the greatest 
beauties. 

I have often looked upon it as a piece of happiness, that I 
have never fallen into any of these fantastical tastes, nor esteem- 
ed any thing the more for its being uncommon and hard to be 
met with. For this reason, I look upon the whole country in 
spring time as a spacious garden, and make as many visits to a 
spot of daisies, or a bank of violets, as a florist does to his bor- 
ders and parterres. There is not a bush in blossom within a 
mile of me which I am not acquainted with, nor scarce a daffo- 
dil or cowslip that withers away in my neighbourhood without my 
missing it. I walked home in this temper of mind through sev- 
eral fields and meadows with an unspeakable pleasure, not with- 
out reflecting on the bounty of Providence, which has made the 
most pleasing and most beautiful objects the most ordinary and 
mos: common. 



No, 220.] THJL 1ATLER. 225 



No. 220. TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 1710. 



Insani sanns nomen ferat, aequus iniqui, 

Ultra quam satis est, virtutein si petat ipsam. — Hob. 



From my own, Apartment, September 4 
Having received many letters filled with compliments and ac 
knowledgments for my late useful discovery of the political ba- 
rometer, I shall here communicate to the public an account of 
my ecclesiastical thermometer, the latter giving as manifest prog- 
nostications of the changes and revolutions in Church, as the for- 
mer does of those in state, and both of them being absolutely 
necessary for every prudent subject who is resolved to keep what 
he has, and get what he can. 

The church thermometer, which I am now to treat of, is sup- 
posed to have been invented in the reign of Henry the Eighth, 
about the time when that religious prince put some to death for 
owning the Pope's supremacy, and others for denying transub- 
stantiation. I do not find, however, any great use made of this 
instrument till it fell into the hands of a learned and vigilant 
priest or minister, (for he frequently wrote himself both one and 
the other) who was some time Vicar of Bray. This gentleman 
lived in his vicarage to a good old age ; and after having seen 
several successions of his neighbouring clergy either burnt or 
banished, departed this life with the satisfaction of having never 
deserted his flock, and died Vicar of Bray. As this glass was 
first designed to calculate the different degrees of heat in religion 
as it raged in Popery, or as it cooled and grew temperate in the 
reformation, it was marked at several distances, after the man- 
ner our ordinary thermometer is to this day, viz., ' extreme hot, 



224 THE TATLER. [No. 220 

sultry hoi, verj hot, hot, warm, temperate, cold, just freezing, 
frost, hard frost, great frost, extreme cold.' 

It is well known, that Toricellius, the inventor of the com- 
mon weather-glass, made the experiment in a long tube which 
held thirty-two foot of water ; and that a more modern virtuoso, 
finding such a machine altogether unwieldy and useless, and 
considering that thirty- two inches of quicksilver weighed as much 
as so many foot of water in a tube of the same circumference, 
invented that sizeable instrument which is now in use. After 
this manner, that I might adapt the thermometer I am now 
speaking of to the present constitution of our church, as divided 
into ' high ' and ' low,' I have made some necessary variations 
both in the tube and the fluid it contains. In the first place, 1 
ordered a tube to be cast in a planetary hour, and took care to 
seal it hermetically, when the sun was in conjunction with Saturn. 
I then took the proper precautions about the fluid, which is a 
compound of two very different liquors ; one of them a spirit 
drawn out of a strong heady wine ; the other a particular sort of 
rock water, colder than ice, and clearer than crystal. The spirit 
is of a red fiery colour, and so very apt to ferment, that unless 
it be mingled with a proportion of the water, or pent up very 
close, it will burst the vessel that holds it, and fly up in fume 
and smoke. The water, on the contrary, is of such a subtle 
piercing cold, that unless it be mingled with a proportion of the 
spirits, it will sink through almost every thing that it is put into, 
and seems to be of the same nature as the water mentioned by 
Quintus Curtius, which, says the historian, could be contained in 
nothing but in the hoof, or (as the Oxford manuscript has it) in the 
skull of an ass. The thermometer is marked according to the 
following figure, which I set down at length, not only to give my 
reader a clear idea of it, but also to fill up my paper. 



N«. 220.] THE TATLER. 22^ 

Ignorance. 

Persecution. 

Wrath. 

Zeal. 

Church. 

Moderation. 

Lukewarmness. 

Infidelity. 

Ignorance. 
The reader will observe, that the church is placed in the mid- 
dle point of the glass, between Zeal and Moderation, the situa- 
tion in which she always flourishes, and in which every good Eng- 
lishman wishes her, who is a friend to the constitution of his 
country. However, when it mounts to Zeal it is not amiss ; and 
when it sinks to Moderation, is still in a most admirable temper. 
The worst of it is, that when once it begins to rise, it has still an 
inclination to ascend, insomuch that it is apt to climb from Zeal 
to Wrath, and from Wrath to Persecution, which always ends in 
Ignorance, and very often proceeds from it. In the same manner 
it frequently takes its progress through the lower half of the 
glass ; and when it has a tendency to fall, will gradually descend 
from Moderation to Lukewarmness, and from Lukewarmness to 
Infidelity, which very often terminates in Ignorance, and always 
proceeds from it. 

It is a common observation, that the ordinary thermometer 
will be affected by the breathing of people who are in the room 
where it stands ; and indeed, it is almost incredible to conceive 
how the glass I am now describing will fall by the breath of a 
multitude crying Popery ; or on the contrary, how it will rise 
when the same multitude (as it sometimes happens) cry out in 
the same breath, ' The Church is in danger.' 

As soon as I had finished this my glass, and adjusted it to 
vol. iv. — 10* 



•226 THE TATLER. [No. 220. 

the above-mentioned scale of religion, that I might make proper 
experiments with it, I carried it under my cloak to several coffee- 
houses, and other places of resort about this great city. At St. 
James's coffee-house, the liquor stood at Moderation ; but at 
Will's, to my extreme surprise, it subsided to the very lowest mark 
on the glass. At the Grecian, it mounted but just one point 
higher ; at the Rainbow, it still ascended two degrees : Child's 
fetched it up to Zeal, and other adjacent coffee-houses to Wrath. 

It fell into the lower half of the glass as I went further into 
the city, till at length it settled at Moderation, where it continued 
all the time I stayed about the 'Change, as also whilst I passed 
by the Bank. And here I cannot but take notice, that through 
the whole course of my remarks, I never observed my glass to rise 
at the same time that the stocks did. 

To complete the experiment, I prevailed upon a friend of mine, 
who works under me in the occult sciences, to make a progress 
with my glass through the whole island of Great Britain ; and 
after his return, to present me with a register of his observations. 
I guessed beforehand at the temper of several places he passed 
through, by the characters they have had time out of mind. Thus 
that facetious divine, Dr. Fuller, speaking of the town of Banbury 
near a hundred years ago, tells us, it was a place famous for cakes 
and zeal, which I find by my glass is true to this day, as to the 
latter part of this description ; though I must confess, it is not in 
the same reputation for cakes that it was in the time of that learn- 
ed author ; and thus of other places. In short, I have now by 
me, digested in an alphabetical order, all the counties, corpora- 
tions, and boroughs in Great Britain, with their respective tern 
pers, as they stand related to my thermometer : but this I shall 
keep to myself, because I would by no means do any thing that 
may seem to influence any ensuing elections. 

The point of doctrine which I would propagate by this my in* 



No. 224] THE TATLER. 227 

vention, is the same which was long ago advanced by that able 
teacher Horace, out of whom I have taken my text for this dis- 
course : we should be careful not to overshoot ourselves in the 
pursuits even of virtue. Whether zeal or moderation be the point 
we aim at, let us keep fire out of the one, and frost out of the 
other. But alas ! the world is too wise to want such a precaution. 
The terms High Church and Low Church, as commonly used, do 
not so much denote a principle, as they distinguish a party. They 
arc like words of battle, that have nothing to do with their origi- 
nal signification, but are only given out to keep a body of men 
together, and to let them know friends from enemies. 

I must confess, I have considered with some little attention, 
the influence which the opinions of these great national sects have 
upon their practice ; and do look upon it as one of the unaccount- 
able things of our times, that multitudes of honest gentlemen, who 
entirely agree in their lives, should take it in their heads to differ 
in their religion. 



No. 224. THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 1710. 

Materiam superabat opus. ■ — Ovid. 

From my own Apartment, September 13. 
It is my custom, in a dearth of news, to entertain myself with 
those collections of advertisements that appear at the end of all 
our public prints. These I consider as accounts of news from 
the little world, in the same manner that the foregoing parts of 
the paper are from the great, If in one we hear that a sovereign 
prince is fled from his capital city, in the other we hear of a trades- 
man who hath shut up his shop, and run away. If in one we find 
the victory of a general, in the other we see the desertion of a pri- 
vate soldier. 1 must confess, I have a certain weakness in my 



•228 THE TATLER. [No. 224, 

temper, that is often very much affected by these little domestic 
occurrences, and have frequently been caught with tears in my 
eyes over a melancholy advertisement. 

But to consider this subject in its most ridiculous lights, ad- 
vertisements are of great use to the vulgar : first of all, as they 
are instruments of ambition. A man tHt is by no means big 
enough for the gazette, may easily creep ito the advertisements : 
by which means we often see an apothecary in the same paper of 
news with a plenipotentiary, or a running-footman with an am- 
bassador. An advertisement from Piccadilly goes down to pos- 
terity, with an article from Madrid ; and John Bartlett, a of Good- 
man's Fields, is celebrated in the same paper with the Emperor 
of Germany. Thus the fable tells us, ' That the wren mounted 
as high as the eagle, by getting upon his back.' 

A second use whic'h this sort of writings have been turned to 
of late years, has been the management of controversy, insomuch, 
that above half the advertisements one meets with now-a-days are 
purely polemical. The inventors of ' Strops for Razors" have 
written against one another this way for several years, and that 
ivith great bitterness ; as the whole argument pro and con in the 
<;ase of the ' Morning Gowns ' is still carried on after the same 
manner. I need not mention the proprietors of Dr. Anderson's 
pills ; nor take notice of the many satirical works of this nature 
so frequently published by Dr. Clark, who has had the confidence 
to advertise upon that learned knight, my very worthy friend, Sir 
William Read : but I shall not interpose in their quarrel ; Sir 
William can give him his own in advertisements, that, in the 
judgment of the impartial, are as well penned as the doctor's. 

The third and last use of these writings is, to inform the 

1 Nichols has an interesting note on this. — G-. 
a A truss-maker. [N.] 



No. 224.] THE TATLER. 229 

World where thej may be furnished with almost every thing tbut 
is necessary for life If a man has pains in his head, cholics in 
his bowels, or spots in his clothes, he may here meet with proper 
cures and remedies. If a man would recover a wife or a horse 
that is stolen or strayed ; if he wants new sermons, electuaries, 
asses milk, or any thing else, either for his body or his mind, this 
is the place to look for them in. 

The great art in writing advertisements, is the finding out a 
proper method to catch the reader's eye ; without which a good 
thing may pass over unobserved, or be lost among commissions 
of bankrupt. Asterisks and hands were formerly of great use 
for this purpose. Of late years, the iV. B. has been much in 
fashion ; as also little cuts and figures, the invention of which we 
must ascribe to the author of spring-trusses. I must not here 
omit the blind Italian character, which being scarce legible, always 
fixes and detains the eye, and gives the curious reader something 
like the satisfaction of prying into a secret. 

But the great skill in an advertiser, is chiefly seen in the style 
which he makes use of. He is to mention ' the universal esteem, 
or general reputation,' of things that were never heard of. If he 
is a physician or astrologer, he must change his lodgings frequent- 
ly, and (though he never saw any body in them besides his own 
family) give public notice of it, £ For the information of the 
Nobility and Gentry.' Since I am thus usefully employed in 
writing criticisms on the works of these diminutive authors, I 
must not pass over in silence an advertisement which has lately 
made its appearance, and is written altogether in a Ciceronian 
manner. It was sent to me, with five shillings, to be inserted 
among my advertisements ; but as it is a pattern of good writing 
in this way I shall give it a place in the body of my paper. 

" The highest compounded Spirit of Lavender, the mos* 



^30 THE TATLER. [No. 224 

glorious (if the expression may be used) enlivening scent and 
flavour that can possibly be, which so raptures the spirits, delights 
the gust, and gives such airs to the countenance, as are not to be 
imagined but by those that have tried it. The meanest sort of 
the thing is admired by most gentlemen and ladies : but this far 
more, as by far it exceeds it, to the gaining among all a more 
than common esteem. It is sold (in neat flint bottles fit for the 
pocket) only at the Golden Key, in Wharton's Court, near Hol- 
born Bars, for 3s. 6d. with directions." 

At the same time that I recommend the several flowers in 
which this spirit of lavender is wrapped up, (if the expression 
may be used) I cannot excuse my fellow labourers for admitting 
into their papers several uncleanly advertisements, not at all 
proper to appear in the works of polite writers. Among these I 
must reckon the c Carminative wind-expelling Pills.' If the 
doctor had called them his Carminative Pills, he had done as 
cleanly as any one could have wished ; but the second word entirely 
destroys the decency of the first. There are other absurdities of 
this nature so very gross, that I dare not mention them; and 
shall therefore dismiss this subject, with a public admonition to 
Michael Parrot ; that he do not presume any more to mention a 
certain worm he knows of, which, by the way, has grown seven 
foot in my memory ; for if I am not much mistaken, it is the 
same that was but nine foot long about six months ago. 

By the remaiks I have here made, it plainly appears, that a 
collection of advertisements is a kind of miscellany; the writers 
of which contrary to all authors, except men of quality, give 
money to the booksellers who publish their copies. The genius 
of the bookseller is chiefly shown in his method of ranging and 
digesting these little tracts. The last paper I took up in m\ 
hands, places them in the following order : 



No. 226.] THETATLER. 23 1 

The true Spanish blacking for shoes, &c. 

The beautifying cream for the face, &c. 

Pease and plaisters, &c. 

Nectar and ambrosia, &c. 

Four freehold tenements of 15/. per annum, &c 

* # * The present State of England, &c. 

jfj Annotations upon the Tatler, &c. x 

A commission of bankrupt being awarded against B. L. book 
seller, &c. 



No. 226. TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 1710. 

Juvenis quondam, nunc Fsemina Cseneus, 

Et fato in veterem rursus revoluta figuram. — Vina 

From my own Apartment, September 18. 
It is one of the designs of this paper to transmit to pos 
terity an account of every thing that is monstrous in my own 
times. For this reason I shall here publish to the world the life 
of a person who was neither man nor woman, as written by one 
of my ingenious correspondents, who seems to have imitated 
Plutarch in that multifarious erudition, and those occasional dis- 
sertations, which he has wrought into the body of his history. 
The life I am putting out, is that of Margery, alias John Young, 
commonly known by the name of Dr. Young, who (as the town 
very well knows) was a woman that practised physic in man's 
clothes, and after having had two wives and several children, died 
about a month since. 

1 Y. The original advertisements which accompanied the Tatler in 
Nichols's ed., and many in this. — G-. 



232 THE TAT1-ER. [No. 226. 

" Sir, 

" I here make bold to trouble you with a short account of 
the famous Dr. Young's life, which you may call (if you please) 
a second part of the farce of the Sham Doctor. This perhaps 
will not seem so strange to you, who (if I am not mistaken) have 
somewhere mentioned with honour your sister Kirleus 1 as a 
practitioner both in physic and astrology : but in the common 
opinion of mankind, a she-quack is altogether as strange and 
astonishing a creature as a Centaur that practised physic in 
the days of Achilles, or as King Phys in the Rehearsal. iEscu- 
lapius, the great founder of your art, was particularly famous for 
his beard, as we may conclude from the behaviour of a tyrant, 
who is branded by Heathen historians as guilty both of sacrilege 
and blasphemy, having robbed the statue of iEsculapius of a thick 
bushy golden beard, and then alleged for his excuse, ' That it was 
a shame the son should have a beard when his father Apollo had 
none.' This latter instance, indeed, seems something to favour a 
female professor, since (as I have been told) the ancient statues 
of Apollo are generally made with the head and face of a woman : 
nay, I have been credibly informed by those who have seen them 
both, that the famous Apollo in the Belvidere did very much 
resemble Dr. Young. Let that be as it will, the Doctor was a 
kind of Amazon in physic, that made as great devastations and 
slaughters as any of our chief heroes in the art, and was as fatal 
to the English in these our days, as the famous Joan d'Arc was 
in those of our forefathers. 

" I do not find any thing remarkable in the life I am about 
to write, till the year 1695, at which time the doctor, being about 
twenty-three years old, was brought to bed of a bastard child 
The scandal of such a misfortune gave so great uneasiness to 

1 There were two she quacks of this name, Susannah and Mary, who 
advertised upon one another. — G. 



f N0. 226. THE TATLER. 233 

pretty Mrs. Peggy, (for that was the name by which the doctor 
was then called) that she left her family, and followed her lover 
to London, with a fixed resolution, some way or other, to recover 
her lost reputation : but instead of changing her life, which one 
would have expected from so good a disposition of mind, she 
took it in her head to change her sex. This was soon done by 
the help of a sword, and a pair of breeches. I have reason to 
believe, that her first design was to turn man-midwife, having 
herself had some experience in those affairs : but thinking this 
too narrow a foundation for her future fortune, she at length 
bought her a gold button coat, and set up for a physician. Thus 
we see the same fatal miscarriage in her youth made Mrs. Young 
a doctor, that formerly made one of the same sex a pope. 

"The doctor succeeded very well in his business at first, but 
very often met with accidents that disquieted him. As he wanted 
that deep magisterial voice which gives authority to a prescrip- 
tion, and is absolutely necessary for the right pronouncing of 
those words, ' Take these pills,' he unfortunately got the nick- 
name of ' The Squeaking Doctor.' If this circumstance alarmed 
the doctor, there was another that gave him no small disquiet, 
and very much diminished his gains. In short, he found him- 
self run down as a superficial prating quack, in all families that 
had at the head of them a cautious father, or a jealous husband. 
These would often complain among one another, that they did 
not like such a smock-faced physician ; though in truth, had they 
known how justly he deserved that name, they would rather have 
favoured his practice, than have apprehended any thing from it. 

Such were the motives that determined Mrs. Young to change 
her condition, and take in marriage a virtuous young woman, 
who lived with her in good reputation, and made her the father 
of a very pretty girl. But this part of her happiness was soon 
after destroyed by a distemper which was too hard for our phy 



234 THE TATLER. [JSTo. 226. 

sician, and carried off his wife. The doctor had not been a 
widow long, before he married his second lady, with whom also 
he lived in very good understanding. It so happened, that the 
doctor was with child at the same time that his lady was ; but 
the little ones coming both together, they passed for twins. The 
doctor having entirely established the reputation of his manhood, 
especially by the birth of the boy of whom he had been lately 
delivered, and who very much resembles him, grew into good 
business, and was particularly famous for the cure of venereal 
distempers ; but would have had much more practice among his 
own sex, had not some.of them been so unreasonable as to de 
mand certain proofs of their cure, which the doctor was not able 
to give them. The florid blooming look, which gave the doctor 
some uneasiness at. first, instead of betraying his person, only 
recommended his physic. Upon this occasion I cannot forbear 
mentioning what I thought a very agreeable surprise in one of 
Moliere's plays, where a young woman applies herself to a sick 
person in the habit of a quack, and speaks to her patient, who 
was something scandalized at the youth of his physician, to the 
following purpose : — " I begun to practise in the reign of Fran- 
cis I. and am now in the hundred and fiftieth year of my age ; 
but, by the virtue of my medicaments, have maintained myself in 
the same beauty and freshness I had at fifteen.' For this reason, 
Hippocrates lays it down as a rule, that a student in physic 
should have a sound constitution, and a healthy look ; which in- 
deed seem as necessary qualifications for a physician, as a good 
life, and virtuous behaviour, for a divine. But to return to our 
subject. About two years ago, the doctor was very much afflicted 
with the vapours, which grew upon him to such a degree, that about 
six weeks since they made an end of him. His death discovered the 
disguise he had acted under, and brought him back again to his 
former *«x. 'Tis said, that at his burial, the pall was held up by # 






No. 229.] THE TATLER. 



235 



six women of some fashion, The doctor left behind him a widow, 
and two fatherless children, if they may be called so, besides the 
little boy before mentioned. In relation to whom we may say 
of the doctor, as the good old ballad about ' The Children in 
the Wood ' says of the unnatural uncle, that he was father and 
mother both in one. These are all the circumstances that I 
could learn of Dr. Young's life, which might have given occa- 
sion to many obscene fictions : but as I know those would never 
have gained a place in your paper, I have not troubled you with 
any impertinence of that nature ; having stuck to the truth very 
scrupulously, as I always do when I subscribe myself, 

"Sir, Your," &c. 

I shall add, as a postscript to this letter, that I am informed, 
the famous Saltero, 1 who sells coffee in his museum at Chelsea, 
has by him a curiosity which helped the doctor to carry on his 
imposture, and will give great satisfaction to the curious in- 
quirer. 



No. 229. TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 1710. 

Qusesitam meritis sume superbiam. — Hoe. 

From my oivn Apartment, September 25. 
The whole creation preys upon itself: every living creature 
is inhabited. A flea has a thousand invisible insects that tt,aze 
him as he jumps from place to place, and revenge our quarrels 
upon him. A very ordinary microscope shows us, that a louse 
is itself a very lousy creature. A whale, besides those seas and 
oceans in the several vessels of his body, which are filled with 

i V. no! ?s to No. 34, Nichols's ed. — G. 



236 THE TATLER. [No. 229. 

innumerable shoals of little animals, carries about it a whole 
world of inhabitants ; insomuch that, if we believe the calcula- 
tions some have made, there are more living creatures, which are 
too small for the naked eye to behold, about the leviathan, than 
there are of visible creatures upon the face of the whole earth 
Thus every nobler creature is as it were the basis and support 
of multitudes that are his inferiors. 

This consideration very much comforts me, when I think on 
those numberless vermin that feed upon this paper, and find their 
sustenance out of it ; I mean, the small wits and scribblers that 
every day turn a penny by nibbling at my lucubrations. This 
has been so advantageous to this little species of writers, that, if 
they do me justice, I may expect to have my statue erected in 
Grub-street, as being a common benefactor to that quarter. 

They say, when a fox is very much troubled with fleas, he 
goes into the next pool with a little lock of wool in his mouth, 
and keeps his body under water, till the vermin get into it, after 
which he quits the wool, and diving, leaves his tormentors to 
shift for themselves, and get their livelihood where they can. I 
would have these gentlemen take care that I do not serve them 
after the same manner ; for though I have hitherto kept my 
temper pretty well, it is not impossible but I may some time or 
other disappear ; and what will then become of them ? Should 
I lay down my paper, what a famine would there be among the 
hawkers, printers, booksellers, and authors ? It would be like 
Dr. Burgess's" dropping his cloak, with the whole congregation 
hanging upon the skirts of it. To enumerate some of these my 
doughty antagonists, I was threatened to be answered weekly Tit 
for Tat : I was undermined by the Whisperer, haunted by Tom 
Brown's Ghost, scolded at bv a Female Tatler, and slandered 

a Daniel Burgess was secretary and reader to the princess Sophia a) 
the court of Hanover '.: 17 14.- "N" 



AO. 229.] THE TATLER. 237 

by another of the vime character, under the title of Atalantis. 
I have been annotated, retattled, examined, and condoled : but 
it being my standing maxim, never to speak ill of the dead ; I 
shall let these authors rest in peace, and take great pleasure in 
thinking that I have sometimes been the means of their getting 
a belly-full. When I see myself thus surrounded by such for- 
midable enemies, I often think of the Knight of the Red Cross 
in Spencer's Den of Error, who, after he has cut off the dragon's 
head, and left it wallowing in a flood of ink, sees a thousand 
monstrous reptiles making their attempts upon him, one with 
many heads, another with none, and all of them without eyes. 

The same so sore annoyed has the knight, 

That well nigh choaked with the deadly stink, 

His forces fail, he can no longer fight ; 

Whose courage when the fiend perceived to shrink, 

She poured forth out of her hellish sink 

Her fruitful cursed spawn of serpents small, 

Deformed monsters, foul, and black as ink ; 

"Which swarming all about his legs did crawl, 

And him encombred sore, but could not hurt at all. 

As gentle shepherd in sweet even-tide, 

When ruddy Phoebus gins to welk in west, 

High on an hill, his flock to viewen wide, 

Marks which do bite their hasty supper best : 

A cloud of combrous gnats do him molest, 

All striving to infix their feeble stings, 

That from their noyance he no where can rest ; 

But with his clownish hands their tender wings 

He brusheth oft, and oft doth mar their murmuring.* 

If ever I should want such a fry of little authors to attend 
me, I shall think my paper in a very decaying condition. They 
are like ivy about an oak, which adorns the tree at the same 
time that it eats into it ; or like a great man's equipage, that do 
honour to the person on whom they feed. For my part, when I 

a Fairy Queen, L. i., 1. 1.— V. 22-25.— N". 



238 THE TATLER. [No. 239. 

see myself thus attacked, I do not consider my antagonists aa 
malicious, but hungry, and therefore am resolved never to take 
any notice of them. 

As for those who detract from my labours without being 
prompted to it by an empty stomach, in return to their censures 
I shall take pains to excel, and never fail to persuade myself, 
that their enmity is nothing but their envy or ignorance. 

Give me leave to conclude, like an old man and a moralist, 
with a fable. 

The owls, bats, and several other birds of night, were one day 
got together in a thick shade, where they abused their neigh- 
bours in a very sociable manner. This satire at last fell upon 
the sun, whom they all agreed to be very troublesome, imper- 
tinent, and inquisitive. Upon which the sun, who overheard 
them, spoke to them after this manner : ' Gentlemen, I wonder 
how you dare abuse one that you know could in an instant scorch 
you up, and burn every mother's son of you : but the only an- 
swer I shall give you, or the revenge I shall take of you, is, to 
shine on.' 



No. 239. THURSDAY, OOTOBEB 19, 1710. 

Mecum certasse feretur. — Ovid. 

From my own Apartment, October lb. 
It is ridiculous for any man to criticise on the works of an- 
other, who has not distinguished himself by his own performances. 
A judge would make but an indifferent figure who had nevei 
been known at the bar. Cicero was reputed the greatest orator 
of his age and country before he wrote a book De Oratore ; and 
Horace the greatest poet before he published his Art of Poetry 



No. 289.] THE TATLER. 239 

The observation arises naturally in any one vriio casts his eye 
upon this last mentioned author, where he will find the criticisms 
placed in the latter end of his book, that is, after the finest odes 
and satires in the Latin tongue. 

A modern, whose name I shall not mention, because I would 
not make a silly paper sell, was born a critic and an examiner, 
and, like one of the race of the serpent's teeth, came into the 
world with a sword in his hand. His works put me in mind of 
the story that is told of a German monk, who was taking a cata. 
logue of a friend's library, and meeting with a Hebrew book in 
it, entered it under the title of, ' A book that has the beginning 
where the end should be.' This author, in the last of his crudi- 
ties, has amassed together a heap of quotations, to prove that 
Horace and Virgil were both of them modester men than my- 
self, and if his works were to live as long as mine, they might 
possibly give posterity a notion, that Isaac Bickerstafife was a 
very conceited old fellow, and as vain a man as either Tully or 
Sir Francis Bacon. Had this serious writer fallen upon me only, 
I could have overlooked it ; but to see Cicero abused, is, I must 
confess, what I cannot bear. The censure he passes upon this 
great man runs thus : ' The itch of being very abusive, is almost 
inseparable from vain-glory. Tully has these two faults in so 
high a degree, that nothing but his being the best writer in the 
world can make amends for them.' The scurrilous wretch goes 
on to say I am as bad as Tully. His words are these : ' And 
yet the Tatler, in his paper of September 26, has outdone him 
in both. He speaks of himself with more arrogance, and with 
more insolence of others.' I am afraid, by his discourse, this 
gentleman has no more read Plutarch than he has Tully. If he 
had, he would have observed a passage in that historian, wherein 
he has with great delicacy distinguished between two passions 
which are usually complicated in human nature, and which an 



'240 THE TATLER. TNo. 23S 

ordinary writer would not have thought of separating. Not 
having my Greek spectacles by me, I shall quote the passage 
word for word as I find it translated to my hand. ' Nevertheless 
though he was intemperately fond of his own praise, yet he was 
very free from envying others, and most liberally profuse in com- 
mending both the ancients and his contemporaries, as is to be 
understood by his writings ; and many of those sayings are still 
recorded, as that concerning Aristotle, { That he was a river of 
flowing gold.' Of Plato's dialogue, ' That if Jupiter were to 
speak, he would discourse as he did.' Theophrastus he was wont 
to call his peculiar delight ; and being asked which of Demos- 
thenes his orations he liked best ? He answered, ' The longest.' 

' And as for eminent men of his own time, either for eloquence 
or philosophy, there was not one of them whom he did not, 
by writing or speaking favourably of, render more illustrious.' 

Thus the critic tells us, that Cicero was excessively vain- 
glorious and abusive ; Plutarch, that he was vain, but not abu- 
sive. Let the reader believe which of them he pleases. 

After this he complains to the world that I call him names ; 
and that in my passion I said, ' He was a flea, a louse, an owl, a 
bat, a small wit, a scribbler, and a nibbler.' When he has thus 
bespoken his reader's pity, he falls into that admirable vein of 
mirth, which I shall set down at length, it being an exquisite 
piece of raillery, and written in great gaiety of heart. ' After 
this list of names, (viz. flea, louse, owl, bat, &c.) I was surprised 
to hear him say, that he has hitherto kept his temper pretty well ; 
[ wonder how he will write when he has lost his temper ? I sup- 
pose, as he now is very angry and unmannerly, he will then be 
exceeding courteous and good-humoured.' If I can outlive this 
raillery, I shall be able to bear any thing. 

There is a method of criticism made use of by this author, 
(for I shall take care how I call him a scribbler again) w^ich 



No 239.] THE TATLER. 241 

may turn into ridicule any work that was ever written, wherein 
there is a variety of thoughts : this the reader will observe in 
the following words ; c He (meaning me) is so intent upon being 
something extraordinary, that he scarce knows what he would be , 
and is as fruitful in his similes as a brother of his whom I lately 
took notice of." In the compass of a few lines he compares him- 
self to a fox, to Daniel Burgess, b to the Knight of the Red Cross, 
to an oak with ivy about it, and to a great man with an equipage.' 
I think myself as much honoured by being joined in this part of 
his paper with the gentleman c whom he here calls my brother, 
as I am in the beginning of it, by being mentioned with Horace 
and Virgil. 

It is very hard that a man cannot publish ten papers without 
stealing from himself ; but to show you that this is only a knack 
of writing, and that the author is got into a certain road of criti- 
cism, I shall set down his remarks on the works of the gentle- 
man whom he here glances upon, as they stand on his 6th paper, 
and desire the reader to compare them with the foregoing pas- 
sage upon mine. 

' In thirty lines his patron is a river, the Primum Mobile, a 
Pilot, a Victim, the Sun, any Thing, and Nothing. He bestows 
increase, conceals his source, makes the machine move, teaches to 
steer, expiates our offences, raises vapours, and looks larger as he 
sets.' d 

What poem can be safe from this sort of criticism ? I think 
I was never in my life so much offended as at a wag whom I once 
met with in a coffee-house : he had in his hand one of the miscel- 
lanies, and was reading the following short copy of verses, which 

a Dr. Garth, v. Examiner, No. 6, and Tatler, No. 78. — N. 
b V. Tatler, No. 66, and note, p. 352 of Nichols's edition, and Tatler, 
No. 229, and note vol. vi. p. 112. — N. 
c Dr. Garth — N. 
* Dr. Garth's verses to my Lord Treasurer. — N. 

VOL. IV. 11 



242 THE TATLEIt. [> T 0. 23&. 

without flattery to the author, 1 is (I think) as beautiful in its kind 
as an) T one in the English tongue. 

Flavia the least and slightest toy, 

Can with resistless art employ. 

This fan in meaner hands would prove 

An engine of small force in love ; 

But she with such an air and mien, a 

Not to be told, or safely seen, 

Directs its wanton motions so, 

That it wounds more than Cupid's bow ; 

Gives coolness to the matchless dame, 

To ev'ry other breast a flame. 

When this coxcomb had done reading them, ' Hey-day ! (says 
he) what instrument is this that Flavia employs in such a manner 
as is not to be told, or safely seen ? In ten lines it is a toy, a 
Cupid's bow, a fan, and an engine in love. It has wanton mo- 
tions, it wounds, it cools, and inflames.' 

Such criticisms make a man of sense sick, and a fool merry. 

The next paragraph of the paper we are talking of, falls upon 
somebody whom I am at a loss to guess at : but I find the whole 
invective turns upon a man who (it seems) has been imprisoned 
for debt. b Whoever he was, I most heartily pity him ; but at the 
same time must put the Examiner in mind, that notwithstanding 
he is a critic, he still ought to remember he is a Christian. 
Poverty was never thought a proper subject for ridicule ; and I 
do not remember that I ever met with a satire upon a beggar. 

As for those little retortings of my own expressions, of being 
dull by design, witty in October, shining, excelling, and so forth; 
they are the common cavils of every witling, who has no other 

1 Hie author. Dr. Atterbury, and as was commonly believed in honor 
of Mrs. Anne Oldfield.— G. 

*■ Another cop}* — Vet she with graceful air and mien. — N. 
» V. Tatler, No. 9, vol. i. p. 95, (Nichols.) Notes No. 229, note p 
110— N. 



No. 24).] THE TATLEL. 243 

method of showing his parts, but by little variations and repeti- 
tions of the man's words whom be attacks. 

But the truth of it is, the paper before me, not only in this 
particular, but in its very essence, is like Ovid's echo : 

-Quse nee reticere loquenti, 



Nee prior ipsa loqui didicit.- 



I should not have deserved the character of a Censor, had I 
not animadverted upon the above-mentioned author by a gentle 
chastisement : but I know my reader will not pardon me, unless 
I declare, that nothing of this nature for the future (unless it be 
written with some wit) shall divert me from my care of the pub- 
lic." 



No. 240. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 21, 1710. 

Ad populum phaleras. Pees. 

From my own Apartment, October 20. 
I do not remember that in any of my lucubrations I have 
touched upon that useful science of physic, notwithstanding I 
have declared myself more than once a professor of it. 1 I have 
indeed joined the study of astrology with it, because I never 
knew a physician recommend himself to the public who had not 

1 Y. letter of Oato Junior. Tatler No. 195. — G. 

a The caustic seventy of this, and the preceding paper, is the more felt 
for being conveyed in all the softness of good-humour.— To possess extra- 
ordinary talents for personal ridicule, and to be shy of appearing in this 
dazzling character, is, I think, a praise peculiar to Virgil, and Mr. Addison. 
It is but from two or three lines in the Roman poet, and from two or three 
occasional papers, in the large and miscellaneous works of our author, that 
either is known to have been the keenest satyrist of his time ; Horace, anci 
Swift, not excepted. 



244 THE TATLER. E 1 '' - 240. 

a sister art to embellish his knowledge in medicine. It has been 
commonly observed in compliment to the ingenious of our pro- 
fession, that Apollo was god of verse as well as physic : and in 
all ages the most celebrated practitioners of our country were * 
the particular favourites of the muses. Poetry to physic is indeed 
like the gilding to a pill ; it makes the art shine, and covers the 
severity of the doctor with the agreeableness of the companion. 

The very foundation of poetry is good sense, if we may allow 
Horace to be a judge of the art. 

Scribendi recte sapere est, et prinaipium, et fons: 

And if so, we have reason to believe, that the same man who 
writes well can prescribe well, if he has applied himself to the 
study of both. Besides, when we see a man making profession 
of two different sciences, it is natural for us to believe he is no 
pretender in that which we are not judges of, when b we find him 
skilful in that which we understand. 

Ordinary quacks and charlatans are thoroughly sensible how 
necessary it is to support themselves by these collateral assist- 
ances, and therefore always lay their claim to some supernume- 
rary accomplishments which are wholly foreign to their profes- 
sion. 

About twenty years ago, it was impossible to walk the streets 
without having an advertisement thrust into your hand, of a 
doctor l who was arrived at the knowledge of the green and red 
dragon, and had discovered the female fern seed ' Nobody ever 
knew what this meant ; but the green and red dragon so amused 
the people, that the doctor lived very comfortably upon them. 
About the same time there was pasted a very hard word upon every 
corner of the streets. This, to the best of my remembrance, was 

a Were. Rather have been.''* 

b When, To avoid an ungraceful repetition, he should have said — if 
we find." 



No. 240.] THE TATLER. 24? 

TETRACHYMAGOGOK 

which drew great shoals of spectators about it, who read the bill 
that it introduced with unspeakable curiosity; and when they 
were sick, would have nobody but this learned man for their 
physician. 

I once received an advertisement of one ' who had studied 
thirty years by candle-light for the good of his countrymen.' 
He might have studied twice as long by day-light, and never 
have been taken notice of: but elucubrations cannot be over- 
valued. There are some who have gained themselves great repu- 
tation for physic by their birth, as the ' seventh son of a seventh 
son;' and others by not being born at all, as the ' unborn doctor,' 
who, I hear, is lately gone the way of his patients, having died 
worth five hundred pounds per annum, though he was not ' born' 
to a halfpenny. 

My ingenious friend Dr. Saffold, 1 succeeded my old contem- 
porary Dr. Lilly in the studies both of physic and astrology, to 
which he added that of poetry, as was to be seen both upon the 
sign where he lived, and in the bills which he distributed. He 
was succeeded by Doctor Case, who erased the verses of his pre- 
decessor out of the sign-post, and substituted in their stead two 
of his own, which were as follow : 

"Within this Place 
Lives Doctor Case. 

He is said to have got more by this distich, than Mr. Dryden 
did by all his works. There would be no end of enumerating the 
several imaginary perfections and unaccountable artifices by which 
this tribe of men ensnare the minds of the vulgar, and gain crowds 
of admirers. I have seen the whole front of a mountebank's stage 
from one end to the other faced with patent certificates, medals, and 

1 For this and the other allusions in this number, V. Nichols's notes, - -G 



5>46 THE TATLER. [No. 240 

great seals, by which the several princes of Europe have testified 
their particular respect and esteem for the doctor. Every great 
man with a sounding title has been his patient. I believe I have 
seen twenty mountebanks that have given physic to the Czar of 
Muscovy. The great Duke of Tuscany escapes no better. The 
Elector of Brandenburg was likewise a very good patient. 

This great condescension of the doctor draws upon him much 
good-will from his audience ; and it is ten to one, but if any of 
them be troubled with an aching tooth, his ambition will prompt 
him to get it drawn by a person, who has had so many princes, 
kings, and emperors, under his hands. 

I must not leave this subject without observing, that as 
physicians are apt to deal in poetry, apothecaries endeavour tc 
recommend themselves by oratory, and are therefore, without 
controversy, the most eloquent persons in the whole British na- 
tion. I would not willingly discourage any of the arts, especially 
that of which I am an humble professor ; but I must confess 
for the good of my native country, I could wish there might be a 
suspension of physic for some years, that our kingdom, which has 
been so much exhausted by the wars, might have leave to recruit 
itself. 

As for myself, the only physic which has brought me safe to 
almost the age of man, and which- 1 prescribe to all my friends, 
is abstinence. This is certainly the best physic for prevention, 
and very often the most effectual against the 1 present distemper 
In short, my recipe is, ' Take nothing.' 

Were the body politic to be physicked like particular persons, 
I should venture to prescribe to it after the same manner. I re 
member when our whole island was shaken with an earthquake 
some years ago, there was an impudent mountebank who sold 

1 A present in Nichols's edition. V. Tat. 148 and note page 233, rf 
N.'s ed.— G. 



No. 243.] THE TATLER. 247 

pills, which (as he told the country people) were very good against 
an earthquake. It may perhaps be thought as absurd to prescribe 
a diet for the allaying popular commotions, and national ferments. 
But I am verily persuaded, that if in such a case a whole people 
were to enter into a course of abstinence, and eat nothing but 
water-gruel for a fortnight, it would abate the rage and animosity 
of parties, and not a little contribute to the cure of a distracted 
nation. Such a fast would have a natural tendency to the pro- 
curing of those ends for which a fast is usually proclaimed. If 
any man has a mind to enter on such a voluntary abstinence, it 
might not be improper to give him the caution of Pythagoras in 
particular. 

" Abstine a fabis." 

" Abstain from beans." 

That is, say the interpreters, meddle not with elections : beans 
having been made use of by the voters among the Athenians in 
the choice of magistrates. 



No. 243. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 28, 1710 

Infert se septis nebula, mirabile dicta 

Per medios, miscetque viris, neque cernitar ulli. — Visa. 

From my own Apartment, October 27. 
I have somewhere made mention of Gyges's ring, 1 and intima- 
ted to my reader that it was at present in my possession, though 
I have not since made any use of it. The tradition concerning this 
ring is very romantic, and taken notice of both by Plato and Tully, 
who each of them make an admirable use of it for the advance- 
ment of morality. This Gryges was the master shepherd to King 
Candaules. As he was wandering over the plains of Lydia, he 
1 V. Tatler 138— K 



248 THE TATLER. [No. 243 

saw a great chasm in the earth, and had the cnriosity to enter it. 
After having descended pretty far into it, he found the statue 
of an horse in brass, with doors in the sides of it. Upon opening 
of them, he found the body of a dead man, bigger than ordinary, 
with a ring upon his finger, which he took off, and put it upon his 
own. The virtues of it were much greater than he at first ima- 
gined ; for upon his going into the assembly of shepherds, he ob- 
served, that he was invisible when he turned the stone of the ring 
within the palm of his hand, and visible when he*turned it towards 
his company. Had Plato and Cicero been as well versed in the 
occult sciences as I am, they would have found a great deal of 
mystic learning in this tradition : but it is impossible for an adept 
to be understood by one who is not an adept. 

As for myself, I have, with much study and application, ar- 
rived at this great secret of making myself invisible, and by that 
means conveying myself where I please ; or to speak in Rosycru- 
cian lore, I have entered into the clefts of the earth, discovered 
the brazen horse, and robbed the dead giant of his ring. The 
tradition says further of Gryges, that by the means of this ring he 
gained admission into the most retired parts of the court, and 
made such use of those opportunities, that he at length became 
King of Lydia. For my own part, I, who have always rather 
endeavoured to improve my mind than my fortune, have turned 
this ring to no other advantage than to get a thorough insight into 
the ways of men, and to make such observations upon the errors 
of others, as may be useful to the public, whatever effect they 
may have upon myself. 

About a week ago, not being able to sleep, I got up and put 
on my magical ring, and with a thought transported myself into 
a chamber where I saw a light. I found it inhabited by a cele- 
brated beauty, though she is of that species of women which wg 
call a slattern. Her head-dress and one of her shoes lay upon 



No. 248.] THE TATLER. 249 

a chair, her petticoat in one corner of the room, and her girdle, 
that had a copy of verses made npon it but the day before, with 
her thread stockings, in the middle of the floor. I was so fool- 
ishly officious, that I could not forbear gathering up her clothes 
together to lay them upon the chair that stood by her bed-side 
when, to my great surprise, after a little muttering, she cried out, 
' What do you do ? Let my petticoat alone.' I was startled at 
first, but soon found that she was in a dream ; being one of those 
who (to use Shakespear's expression) are ' So loose of thought,' 
that they utter in their sleep every thing that passes in their ima- 
gination. I left the apartment of this female rake, and went into 
her neighbour's, where there lay a male coquet. He had a bottle 
of salts hanging over his head, and upon the table, by his bed-side, 
Suckling's poems, with a little heap of black patches on it. His 
snuff-box was within reach on a chair : but while I was admiring 
the disposition which he made of the several parts of his dress, 
his slumber seemed interrupted by a pang, that was accompanied 
by a sudden oath, as he turned himself over hastily in his bed. 
I did not care for seeing him in his nocturnal pains, and left the 
room. 

I was no sooner got into another bedchamber, but I heard 
very harsh words uttered in a smooth uniform tone. I was 
amazed to hear so great a volubility in reproach, and thought it 
too coherent to be spoken by one asleep ; but upon looking nearer, 
I saw the head-dress of the person who spoke,, which shewed her 
to be a female with a man lying by her side broad awake, and as 
quiet as a lamb. I could not but admire his exemplary patience, 
and discovered by his whole behaviour, that he was then lying 
under the discipline of a curtain-lecture. 

I was entertained in many other places with this kind of noc- 
turnal eloquence, but ob served, that most of those whom I found 
nwake, were kept so either by envy or by love. Some of these 
vol. iv. — 11 fc 



250 THE TATLER. [No. 24$ 

were sighing, and others cursing, in soliloquy; EDme hugged their 
pillows, and others gnashed their teeth. 

The covetous I likewise found to be a very wakeful people 
I happened to come into a room where one of them lay sick. His 
physician and his wife were in close whisper near his bed-side. 
I overheard the doctor say to the gentlewoman, ' He cannot pos- 
sibly live till five in the morning.' She received it like the mis- 
tress of a family prepared for all events. At the same instant came 
in a servant maid, who said, ' Madam, the undertaker is below 
according to your order.' The words were scarce out of her 
mouth, when the sick man cried out with a feeble voice, ' Pray, 
doctor, how went bank-stock to-day at 'Change? ' This melan- 
choly object made me too serious for diverting myself further 
this way : but as I was going home, I saw a light in a garret, and 
entering into it, heard a voice crying ' And, hand, stand, band, 
fann'd, tann'd.' I concluded him by this, and the furniture of 
his room, to be a lunatic ; but upon listening a little longer, per- 
ceived it was a poet, writing an heroic upon the ensuing peace. 1 

It was now towards morning, an hour when spirits, witches, 
and conjurors, are obliged to retire to their own apartments ; and 
feeling the influence of it, I was hastening home, when I saw a 
man had got half way into a neighbour's house. I immediately 
called to him, and, turning my ring, appeared in my proper per- 
son. There is something magisterial in the aspect of the Bicker- 
staffes, which made him run away in confusion. 

As I took a turn or two in my own lodging, I was thinking, 
that, old as I was, I need not go to bed alone, but that it was in 
my power to marry the finest lady in this kingdom, if I would 
wed her with this ring. For what a figure would she that should 
have it make at a visit, with so perfect a knowledge as this would 

1 Nichols supposes that Tickell was the person here alluded to. — V 
N.'s notes. — G-. 



^° 249.] THETATLER. 251 

give her of all the scandal in the town ? But instead of endea- 
vouring to dispose of myself and it in matrimony, I resolved to 
lend it to my loving friend the author of the Atalantis,* to fur- 
nish a new Secret History of Secret Memoirs. 



No. 249. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 1710. 

Per varios casus, per tot discriinina rerum, 
Tendinitis. Vikg. 

From my own Apartment, November 10. 

1 was last night visited by a friend b of mine, who has an in- 
exhaustible fund of discourse, and never fails to entertain his 
company with a variety of thoughts and hints that are altogether 
new and uncommon, whether it were in complaisance to my way 
of living, or his real opinion, he advanced the following paradox, 
1 That it required much greater talents to fill up and become a 
retired life, than a life of business.' Upon this occasion he ral 
lied very agreeably the busy men of the age, who only valued 
themselves for being in motion, and passing through a series of 
trifling and insignificant actions. In the heat of his discourse, 
seeing a piece of money lying on my table, ' I defy (says he,) any 
of these active persons to produce half the adventures that this 
twelvepenny piece has been engaged in, were it possible for him 
to give us an account of his life.' 

My friend's talk made so odd an impression upon my mind, 
that soon after I was a-bed I fell insensibly into a most unac- 

a Mrs. Manley. — K 

b See his letters to Mrs. Johnson. Letter X. Nov. 25, 1710. p. 115. — 
fcwift then invented the subject: but it is not so much the invention of & 
story, as the manner of telling it, that constitutes the merit of these papers, 
[V. Nichol's notes for a full account of the origin of this paper. — G.] 



252 THE TATLER. [No. 249. 

countable reverie, that had neither moral nor iesign in it, and 
cannot be so properly called a dream as a deliri am. 

Methought the shilling that lay upon the table reared itself 
upon its edge, and turning the face towards me, opened its mouth, 
and in a soft silver sound, gave me the following account of his 
life and adventures : 

' I was born, (says he,) on the side of a mountain, near a little 
village of Peru, and made a voyage to England in an ingot, under 
the convoy of Sir Francis Drake. I was, soon after my arrival, 
taken out of my Indian habit, refined, naturalized, and put into 
the British mode, with the face of Queen Elizabeth on one side, 
and the arms of the country on the other. Being thus equipped, 
I found in me a wonderful inclination to ramble, and visit all the 
parts of the new world into which I was brought. The people 
very much favoured my natural disposition, and shifted me so fast 
from hand to hand, that before I was five years old, I had travelled 
into almost every corner of the nation. But in the beginning 
of my sixth year, to my unspeakable grief, I fell into the hands 
of a miserable old fellow, who clapped me into an iron chest, 
where I found five hundred more of my own quality who lay 
under the same confinement. The only relief we had, was to be 
taken out aud counted over in the fresh air every morning and 
evening. After an imprisonment of several years, we heard 
somebody knocking at our chest, and breaking it open with an 
hammer. This we found was the old man's heir, who, as his fa- 
ther lay a dying, was so good as to come to our release : he sepa- 
rated us that very day. What was the fate of my companions 
I know not : as for myself, I was sent to the apothecary's shop 
for a pint of sack. The apothecary gave me to an herb-woman, 
the herb-woman to a butcher, the butcher to a brewer, and the 
brewer to his wife, who made a present of me to a nonconformist 
preacher. After this manner I made my way merrily through 



2T«J. 249.] THE TATLER. 253 

the world ; for, as I told you before, we shillings love nothing so 
much as travelling. I sometimes fetched in a shoulder of mut- 
ton, sometimes a play-book, and often had the satisfaction to treat 
a Templar at a twelvepenny ordinary, or carry him, with three 
friends, to Westminster Hall. 

I In the midst of this pleasant progress which I made from 
place to place, I was arrested by a superstitious old woman, who 
shut me up in a greasy purse, in pursuance of a foolish saying, 

That while she kept a Queen Elizabeth's shilling about her, she 
should never be without money.' I continued here a close pri- 
soner for many months, till at last I was exchanged for eight and 
forty farthings. 

I I thus rambled from pocket to pocket till the beginning of 
the civil wars, when, to my shame be it spoken, I was employed 
in raising soldiers against the king : for being of a very tempting 
breadth, a sergeant made use of me to inveigle country fellows, 
and list them in the service of the parliament. 

' As soon as he had made one man sure, his way was to oblige 
him to take a shilling of a more homely figure, and then practise 
the same trick upon another. Thus I continued doing great 
mischief to the crown, till my officer, chancing one morning to 
walk abroad earlier than ordinary, sacrificed me to his pleasures, 
and made use of me to seduce a milk-maid. This wench bent 
me, and gave me to her sweetheart, applying more properly than 
she intended the usual form of, ' To my love and from my love.' 
This ungenerous gallant marrying her within a few days after, 
pawned me for a dram of brandy, and drinking me out next day, 
I was beaten flat with an hammer, and again set a running. 

1 After many adventures, which it would be tedious to relate, 
I was sent to a young spendthrift, in company with the will of 
his deceased father. The young fellow, who I found was very 
extravagant, gave great demonstrations of joy at the receiving of 



254 THE TATLER. pfa. 249 

the will : but opening it, he found himself disinherited and cut off 
from the possession of a fair estate, by virtue of my being made 
a present to him. This put him into such a passion, that after 
having taken me in his hand, and cursed me, he squirred me 
away from him as far as he could fling me. I chanced to light in 
an unfrequented place under a dead wall, where I lay undis- 
covered and useless, during the usurpation of Oliver Cromwell. 

4 About a year after the king's return, a poor cavalier that 
was walking there about dinner-time, fortunately cast his eye 
upon me, and, to the great joy of us both, carried me to a cook's 
shop, where he dined upon me, and drank the king's health. 
When I came again into the world, I found that I had been hap- 
pier in my retirement than I thought, having probably, by that 
means, escaped wearing a monstrous pair of breeches." 

' Being now of great credit and antiquity, I was rather looked 
upon as a medal than an ordinary coin; for which reason a 
gamester laid hold of me, and converted me to a counter, having 
got together some dozens of us for that use. We led a melan- 
choly life in his possession, being busy at those hours wherein 
current coin is at rest, and partaking the fate of our master, 
being in a few moments valued at a crown, a pound, or a six- 
pence, according to the situation in which the fortune of the cards 
placed us. I had at length the good luck to see my master 
break, by which means I was again sent abroad under my primi- 
tive denomination of a shilling. 

- ' I shall pass over many other accidents of less moment, and 
hasten to that fatal catastrophe, when I fell into the hands of an 
artist, who conveyed me under ground, and with an unmerciful 
pair of sheers, cut off my titles, clipped my brims, retrenched my 
shape, rubbed me to my inmost ring, and, in short, so spoiled 

* Pair of breeches. A conceit of the people, from the dispositior of the 
arms of England and Ireland, in the commonwealth coin. 



No. 249.] THE TATLER. 255 

and pillaged me, that he did not leave me worth a groat. You 
may think what a confusion I was in, to see tayself thus curtailed 
and disfigured. I should have been ashamed to have shown a my 
head, had not all my old acquaintance been reduced to the same 
shameful figure, excepting some few that were punched through 
the belly. In the midst of this general calamity, when every 
body thought our misfortune irretrievable, and our case despe- 
rate, we were thrown into the furnace together, and (as it often 
happens with cities rising out of a fire) appeared with greater 
beauty and lustre than we could ever boast of before. What has 
happened to me since this change of sex which you now see, I 
shall take some other opportunity to relate. In the mean time, 
I shall only repeat two adventures, as being very extraordinary, 
and neither of them having ever happened to me alrove once in 
my life. The first was, my being in a poet's pocket, who was so 
taken with the brightness and novelty of my appearance, that it 
gave occasion to the finest burlesque poem in the British lan- 
guage, entitled from me, ' The Splendid Shilling.' b The second 
adventure, which I must not omit, happened to me in the year 
1703, when I was given away in charity to a blind man; but in- 
deed this was by a mistake, the person who gave me having heed- 
lessly thrown me into the hat among a pennyworth of farthings.' 

a To have shewn. It should be, to shew : the only inaccui icy, however 
in this delicious paper. 
b By Mr. John Phillips. 



256 THE TATLER [No. 250. 



No. 250. TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 1710. 

Scis etenim justum gemina suspendere lance 
Ancipitis librae. Pees. 

From my own Apartment, November 13. 

I last winter erected a court of justice for the correcting of 
several enormities in dress and behaviour, which are not cogniza- 
ble in any other courts of this realm. The vintner's case, 1 which 
I there tried, is still fresh in every man's memory. That of the 
petticoat 2 gave also a general satisfaction, not to mention the im 
portant points of the cane and perspective ; in which, if I did no* 
give judgments and decrees according to the strictest rules of 
equity and^ustice, I can safely say, I acted according to the best 
of my understanding. But as for the proceedings of that court, 
I shall refer my reader to an account of them, written by my se- 
cretary, which is now in the press, and will shortly be published 
under the title of ' Lillie's Reports.' 3 

As I last year presided over a court of justice, it is my in- 
tention this year to set myself at the head of a Court of Honour. 
There is no court of this nature any where at present, except in 
France, where, according to the best of my intelligence, it consists 
of such only as are Marshals of that kingdom. I am likewise in- 
formed, that there is not one of that honourable board at present 
who has not been driven out of the field by the Duke of Marl- 
borough : but whether this be only an accidental, or a necessary 
qualification, I must confess I am not able to determine. 

As for the Court of Honour of which I am here speaking 
I intend to sit myself in it as president, with several men of hon- 
our on my right hand, and women of virtue on my left, as my 
assistants. The first place of the bench I have given to an old 

1 Tatler 132.— N. 2 Tatler 103.— N. 3 V. Tatler 110, and note.— K 



No. 250. J THE TAUEU. 257 

Tangereen captain with a wooden leg. The second is a gentle- 
man of a long twisted periwig without a curl in it, a muff with 
very little hair upon it, and a threadbare coat with new buttons, 
being a person of great worth, and second brother to a man of 
quality. The third is a gentleman usher, extremely well read in 
romances, and grandson to one of the greatest wits in Germany, 
who was some time master of the ceremonies to the Duke of Wol 
fembuttel. 

As for those who sit further on my right hand, as it is usual 
in public courts, they are such as will fill up the number of faces 
upon the bench, and serve rather for ornament than use. 1 

The chief upon my left hand are, an old maiden lady, that 
preserves some of the best blood of England in her veins. 

A Welsh woman of a little stature, but high spirit. 

An old prude that has censured every marriage for these thirty 
years, and is lately wedded to a young rake. 

Having thus furnished my bench, I shall establish correspon- 
dencies with the horse-guards, and the Veterans of Chelsea-Col 
lege; the former to furnish me with twelve men of honour, as 
often as I shall have occasion for a grand jury, and the latter 
with as many good men and true for a petty jury. 

As for the women of virtue, it will not be difficult for me to 
find them about midnight at crimp and basset. 

Having given this public notice of my court, I must further 
add, that I intend to open it on this day sevennight, being Mon- 
day the twentieth instant ; and do hereby invite all such as have 
suffered injuries and affronts, that are not to be redressed by the 
common laws of this land, whether they be short bows, cold sal- 
utations, supercilious looks, unreturned smiles, distant behaviour, 
or forced familiarity ; as also all such as have been aggrieved by 

1 This alludes to the masters in chancery, who sit on the bench witi. 
the lord chanceUor sole judge of the court. — N. 



258 THE TATLER. |No. 250 

any ambiguous expression, accidental justle, or unkina repartee ; 
likewise all such as have been defrauded of their right to the 
wall, tricked out of the upper end of the table, or have been suf- 
fered to place themselves in their own wrong on the back-seat of 
the coach : these, and all of these, I do, as is above-said, invite 
to bring in their several cases and complaints, in which they shall 
be relieved with all imaginable expedition. 

I am very sensible, that the office I have now taken upon me 
will engage me in the disquisition of many weighty points that 
daily perplex the youth of the British nation, and therefore I 
have already discussed several of them for my future use ; as, 
How far a man may brandish his cane in the telling a story, with- 
out insulting his hearer ? What degree of contradiction amounts 
to the lie ? How a man should resent another's staring and cock- 
ing a hat in his face ? If asking pardon is an atonement for tread- 
ing upon one's toes ? Whether a man may put up with a box on 
the ear received from a stranger in the dark ? Or, whether a 
man of honour may take a blow of his wife ? with several other 
subtilties of the like nature. 

For my direction in the duties of my office, I have furnished 
myself with a certain astrological pair of scales which I have 
contrived for this purpose. In one of them I lay the injuries, 
in the other the reparations. The first are represented by little 
weights made of a metal resembling iron, and the other in gold. 
These are not only lighter than the weights made use of in Avoir- 
dupois, but also than such as are used in Troy-weight. The hea- 
viest of those that represent the injuries, amount to but a scruple* 
and decrease by so many subdivisions, that there are several im 
perceptible weights which cannot be seen without the help of a 
very fine microscope. I might acquaint my reader, that these 
scales were made under the influence of the sun when he was in 
Libra, and describe many signatures on the weights both of in- 



No. 253.] THE TATLER. 259 

jury and reparation : but as this would look rather to proceed 
from an ostentation of my own art than any care for the public, I 
shall pass it over in silence. 



No. 253. TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 1710. 

Pietate gravem ac mentis si forte virum quem 
Conspexere, silent, arrectisque auribus adstant. — Vieg. 

From my ovm Apartment, November 20 

Extract of the Journal of the Court of Honour, 1710. 

Dice LuncB vicesimo Novembris, hora nona 

Antemeridiana. 

The court being sat, an oath prepared by the Censor was ad- 
ministered to the assistants on his right-hand, who were all sworn 
upon their honour. The women on his left-hand took the same 
oath upon their reputation. Twelve gentlemen of the horse-guards 
were impanelled, having unanimously chosen Mr. Alexander 
Truncheon, who is their right-hand man in the troop, for their 
foreman in the jury. Mr. Truncheon immediately drew his sword, 
and holding it with the point towards his own body, presented it 
to the Censor. Mr. Bickerstaffe received it, and after having sur- 
veyed the breadth of the blade, and the sharpness of the point, 
with more than ordinary attention, returned it to the foreman, 
in a very graceful manner. The rest of the jury, upon the deli- 
very of the sword to their foreman, drew all of them together as 
one man, and saluted the bench with such an air, as signified the 
most resigned submission to those who commanded them, and the 
greatest magnanimity to execute what they should command. 

Mr. Bickerstaffe, after having received the compliments on 
his right-hand, cast his eye upon the left, where the whole female 



260 THE TATLER. [No. 253 

jury paid their respects by a low curtsey, and by lajmg their 
hands upon their mouths. Their fore-woman was a professed Pla- 
tonist, l that had spent much of her time in exhorting the sex to 
set a just value upon their persons, and to make the men know 
themselves. 

There followed a profound silence, when at length, after some 
recollection, the censor, who continued hitherto uncovered, put 
on his hat with great dignity ; and after having composed the 
brims of it in a manner suitable to the gravity of his character, 
he gave the following charge, which was received with silence and 
attention, that being the only applause which he admits of, or is 
ever given in his presence. 

" The nature of my office, and the solemnity of this occasion, 
requiring that I should open my first session with a speech, I 
shall cast what I have to say under two principal heads : 

" Under the first, I shall endeavour to show the necessity and 
usefulness of this new-erected court ; and, under the second, I 
shall give a word of advice and instruction to every constituent 
part of it. 

" As for the first, it is well observed by Phaedrus, an heathen 
poet, 

Nisi utile est quod facirnus, frustra est gloria. 

" Which is the same, ladies, as if I should say, ' It would be 
of no reputation for me to be president of a court which is of no 
benefit to the public' Now the advantages that may arise to the 
weal public from this institution will more plainly appear, if we 
consider what it suffers for the want of it. Are not our streets 
daily filled with wild pieces of justice and random penalties ? 
Are not crimes undetermined, and reparations disproportioned ? 

1 Mrs. Mary Astell. V. Tat. 32 and note, and No. 166 and note. — N 



No. 251 1 THE TATLEIL. 261 

How often have we seen the lie punished by death, and the liar 
himself deciding his own cause ; nay, not only acting the judge 
but the executioner ? Have we not known a box on the eai 
more severely accounted for than manslaughter ? In those extra 
judicial proceedings of mankind, an unmannerly jest is frequent- 
ly as capital as a premeditated murder. 

" But the most pernicious circumstance in this case is, that 
the man who suffers the injury must put himself upon the same 
foot of danger with him that gave it, before he can have his just 
revenge ; so that the punishment is altogether accidental, and 
may fall as well upon the innocent as the guilty. I shall only 
mention a case which happens frequently among the more polite 
nations of the world, and which I the rather mention, because 
both sexes are concerned in it, and which therefore, you gentle- 
men and you ladies of the jury will the rather take notice of ; I 
rattan that great and known case of cuckoldom. Supposing the 
person who has suffered insults in his dearer and better half; 
supposing, I say, this person should resent the injuries done to 
his tender wife ; what is the reparation he may expect ? Why, 
to be used worse than his poor lady, run through the body, and 
left breathless upon the bed of honour ? What then, will you 
on my right-hand say, must the man do that is affronted ? Must 
our sides be elbowed, our shins broken ? Must the wall, or per- 
haps our mistress, be taken from us ? May a man knit his fore- 
head into a frown, toss up his arm, or pish at what we say ; and 
must the villain live after it ? Is there no redress for injured 
honour ? Yes, gentlemen, that is the design of the judicature 
we have here established. 

" A court of conscience, we very well know, was first insti- 
tuted for the determining of several points of property that were 
too little and trivial for the cognizance of higher courts of justice 
In the same manner, our court c f honour is appointed for the ex 



262 THE TATLER. [No 253. 

animation of several niceties and punctilios that do not pass for 
wrongs in the eye of our common laws. But notwithstanding 
no legislators of any nation have taken into consideration these 
little circumstances, they are such as often lead to crimes big 
enough for their inspection, though they come before them too 
late for their redress. 

" Besides, I appeal to you, ladies, [Here Mr. Bickerstaffe 
turned to his left-hand] if these are not the little stings and 
thorns in life that make it more uneasy than its most substantial 
evils ? Confess ingenuously, did you never lose a morning's de- 
votions, because you could not offer them up from the highest 
place of the pew ? Have you not been in pain, even at a ball, 
because another has been taken out to dance before you ? Do 
you love any of your friends so much as those that are below 
you ? Or have you any favourites that walk on your right-hand 1 
You have answered me in your looks, I ask no more. 

" I come now to the second part of my discourse, which 
obliges me to address myself in particular to the respective mem 
bers of the court, in which I shall be very brief. 

" As for you, gentlemen and ladies, my assistants and grand 
juries, I have made choice of you on my right-hand, because I 
know you very jealous of your honour ; and you on my left, be- 
cause I know you very much concerned for the reputation of 
others ; for which reason I expect great exactness and impartiali- 
ty in your verdicts and judgments. 

" I must in the next place address myself to you, gentlemen 
of the council : you all know, that I have not chosen you for 
your knowledge in the litigious parts of the law, but because you 
have all of you formerly fought duels, of which I have reason to 
think you have repented, as being now settled in the peaceable 
state of benchers. My advice to you is, only, that in your 
pleadings you are short and expressive ; to which end you are t« 



No. 254. J THE- TAT. ER. 263 

banish out of your discourses all synonymous terms, and un- 
necessary multiplications of verbs and nouns. I do moreover 
forbid you the use of the words also and likewise ; and must 
further declare, that if I catch any one among you, upon any pre- 
tence whatsoever, using the particle or, I shall instantly order 
him to be stripped of his gown, and thrown over the bar." 

This is a true copy, Charles Lillie. 

N. B. The sequel of the proceedings of this day will be pub 
lished on Tuesday next. 1 

Sir Richard Steele assisted in this paper.* T. 



No. 254. THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 1710. 

Splendide mendax Hoe. 

From my own Apartment, November 22- 

There are no books which I more delight in than in travels, 
especially those that describe remote countries, and give the wri- 
ter an opportunity of showing his parts without incurring any dan- 
ger of being examined or contradicted. Among all the authors 
of this kind, our renowned countryman Sir John Mandeville has 
distinguished himself by the copiousness of his invention, and 
greatness of his genius. The second to Sir John I take to have 
been Ferdinand Mendez Pinto, a person of infinite adventure, and 
unbounded imagination. One reads the voyages of these two 
great wits with as much astonishment as the travels of Ulysses in 
Homer, or of the Red-Cross Knight in Spencer. All is enchant- 
ed ground, and fairy land. 

I have got into my hands, by great chance, several manuscripts 
1 V. Tatler 256— G. 

a Yet the whole, it must b« owned, is not unworthy of Mr. Addison. 



264 THE TATLER. [No. 254, 

of these two eminent authors, which are filled with greater won- 
ders than any of those they have communicated to the public ; and 
indeed, were they not so well attested, would appear altogether 
improbable. I am apt to think, the ingenious authors did not 
publish them with the rest of their works, lest they should pass 
for fictions and fables : a caution not unnecessary, when the repu- 
tation of their veracity was not yet established in the world. But 
as this reason has now no further weight, I shall make the public 
a present of these curious pieces at such times as I shall find my- 
self unprovided with other subjects. 

The present paper I intend to fill with an extract of Sir John's 
journal, in which that learned and worthy knight gives an account 
of the freezing and thawing of several short speeches which he 
made in the territories of Nova Zembla. 1 I need not inform my 
reader, that the author of Hudibras alludes to this strange quali- 
ty in that cold climate, when, speaking of abstracted notions cloth- 
ed in a visible shape, he adds that apt simile, 

Like words congeal'd in northern air." 

Not to keep my reader any longer in suspense, the relation 
put into modern language is as follows : 

' We were separated by a storm in the latitude of 73, inso 
much that only the ship which I was in, with a Dutch and a French 
vessel, got safe into a creek of Nova Zembla. We landed in order 
to refit our vessels, and store ourselves with provisions. The crew 
of each vessel made themselves a cabin of turf and wood, at some 
distance from each other, to fence themselves against the inclem- 
encies of the weather, which was severe beyond imagination. We 
soon observed, that in talking to one another we lost several of 
our words, and could not hear one another at above two yards dis- 

1 CEuvres de Rabelais, liv. iv. ch. 55, &c. — N. 
a Hudibras, Part I canto 1. — v. 148. — N. 



No. 254.] THE TATLER. 265 

tance, and that too when we sat very near the fire. After much 
perplexity, I found that our words froze in the air before they 
could reach the ears of the person to whom they were spoken. I 
was soon confirmed in this conjecture, when, upon the increase of 
the cold, the whole company grew dumb, or rather deaf; for 
every man was sensible, as we afterwards found, that he spoke as 
well as ever ; but the sounds no sooner took air, than they were 
condensed and lost. It was now a miserable spectacle to see us 
nodding and gaping at one another, every man talking, and no 
man heard. One might observe a seaman, that could hail a ship 
at a league distance, beckoning with his hands, straining his lungs, 
and tearing his throat, but all in vain. 

Nee vox, nee verba, sequuntur. 



c We continued here three weeks in this dismal plight. At 
length, upon a turn of wind, the air about us began to thaw. Our 
cabin was immediately filled with a dry clattering sound, which I 
afterwards found to be the crackling of consonants that broke 
above our heads, and were often mixed with a gentle hissing, 
which I imputed to the letter S, that occurs so frequently 
in the English tongue. I soon after felt a breeze of whispers 
rushing by my ear ; for those being of a soft and gentle sub- 
stance, immediately liquified in the warm wind that blew across 
our cabin. These were soon followed by syllables and short 
words, and at length by entire sentences, that melted sooner 
or later, as they were more or less congealed ; so that we now 
heard every thing that had been spoken during the whole three 
weeks that we had been silent, if I may use that expression. It 
was now very early in the morning, and yet, to my surprise, I 
heard somebody say, ' Sir John, it is midnight, and time for the 
ship's crew to go to bed.' This I knew to be the pilot's voice, and 
upon recollecting myself, I concluded that he had spoken these 
vol. iv. — 12 



266 THE TATLEK. [No. 254. 

words to me some days before, though I could not hear them be- 
fore the present thaw. My reader will easily imagine how the 
whole crew was amazed to hear every man talking, and see no man 
opening his mouth. In the midst of this great surprise we were 
all in, we heard a volley of oaths and curses, lasting for a long 
while, and uttered in a very hoarse voice, which I knew belonged 
to the boatswain, who was a very choleric fellow, and had taken 
his opportunity of cursing and swearing at me when he thought 1 
could not hear him ; for I had several times given him the strap- 
pado on that account, as I did not fail to repeat it for these his 
pious soliloquies when I got him on shipboard. 

1 1 must not omit the names of several beauties in Wapping # 
which were heard every now and then, in the midst of a long sigh 
that accompanied them ; as, dear Kate ! Pretty Mrs. Peggy I 
When shall I see my Sue again ? This betrayed several amours 
which had been concealed till that time, and furnished us with a 
great deal of mirth in our return to England. 

1 When this confusion of voices was pretty well over, though 
I was afraid to offer at speaking, as fearing I should not be heard, 
I proposed a visit to the Dutch cabin, which lay about a mile fur- 
ther up into the country. My crew were extremely rejoiced to 
find they had again recovered their hearing, though every man ut- 
tered his voice with the same apprehensions that I had done : 



-Et timide verba intermissa retentat. 



' At about kalf a mile's distance from our cabin, we heard the 
groauings of a bear, which at first startled us ; but upon inquiry 
we were informed by some of our company that he was dead, and 
now lay in salt, having been killed upon that very spot about a 
fortnight before in the time of the frost. Not far from the same 
£lace we were likewise entertained with some posthumous snarls 
and barkings of a fox. 



No. 254.] THE TATLER. 267 

* We at length arrived at the little Dutch settlement, and upon 
entering the room, found it filled with sighs that smelt of brandy, 
and several other unsavoury sounds that were altogether inartic- 
ulate. My valet, who was an Irishman, fell into so great a rage 
at what he heard, that he drew his sword ; but not knowing where 
to lay the blame, he put it up again. We were stunned with these 
confused noises, but did not hear a single word till about half an 
hour after ; which I ascribed to the harsh and obdurate sounds 
of that language, which wanted more time than ours to melt and 
become audible. 

' After having here met with a very hearty welcome, we went 
to the French cabin, who, to make amends for their three weeks 
silence, were talking and disputing with greater rapidity and con- 
fusion than ever I heard in an assembly even of that nation. 
Their language, as I found, upon the first giving of the weather, 
fell asunder and dissolved. I was here convinced of an error 
into which I had before fallen ; for I fancied, that for the free- 
zing of the sound, it was necessary for it to be wrapped up, *nd, 
as it were, preserved in breath ; but I found my mistake, when 
I heard the sound of a kit playing a minuet over our heads. I 
asked the occasion of it ; upon which one of the company toJd 
me, that it would play there above a week longer if the thaw 
continued ; ' For, (says he,) finding ourselves bereft of speech, 
we prevailed upon one of the company, who had this musical in- 
strument about him, to play to us from morning to night ; all 
which time we employed in dancing, in order to dissipate our 
chagrin, et tuer le temps.'' 

Here Sir John gives very good philosophical reasons, why 
the kit could be heard during the frost ; but as they are some- 
thing prolix, I pass over them in silence, and shall only observe, 
that the honourable author seems, by his quotations, to have 
oeen well versed in the ancient poets, which perhaps raised his 



268 THE TATLER. [No. 255 

fancy above the ordinary pitch of historians, and very mueh con- 
tributed to the embellishment of his writings.* 



No. 255. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1710. 



Nee te tua plurima, Pantheu, 

Labentem pietas nee Apollinis infula texit.— Virg. 

From my own Apartment, November 24. 
TO THE CENSOR OF GREAT BRITAIN. 

" Sir, 

" I am at present under very great difficulties, which it is not 
in the power of any one, besides yourself, to redress. Whether 
or no you shall think it a proper case to come before your Court 
of Honour, I cannot tell ; but thus it is : I am chaplain to an 
honourable family, very regular at the hours of devotion, and, I 
hope, of an unblameable life ; but for not offering to rise at sec- 
ond course, I found my patron and his lady very sullen and out 
of humour, though at first I did not know the reason of it. At 
length, when I happened to help myself to a jelly, the lady of 
the house, otherwise a devout woman, told me, ' That it did not 
become a man of my cloth to delight in such frivolous food . 
but as I still continued to sit out the last course, I was yester- 
day informed by the butler, that his lordship had no further oc- 
casion for my service. All which is humbly submitted to your 
consideration, by " Sir, 

" Your most humble servant," &c. 

The case of this gentleman deserves pity especially if he 

loves sweetmeats, to which, if I may guess by his letter, he is no 

» V. Macaulay's England, ch. 3. — G. 

* It is hard t<r. say, whether the humour of this paper, or the expre* 
S»o*i, he more exq isite. [And yet Steele had a hand in it I — G.] 



No. 255.] THE TATLER. 269 

enemy. In the mean time, I have often wondered at the inde- 
cency of discarding the holiest man from the table, as soon as 
the most delicious parts of the entertainment are served up, and 
could never conceive a reason for so absurd a custom. Is it be- 
cause a liquorish palate, or a sweet tooth (as they call it) is not 
consistent with the sanctity of his character ? This is but a tri- 
fling pretence. No man of the most rigid virtue gives offence 
by any excesses in plum-pudding or plum-porridge, and that be- 
cause they are the first parts of the dinner. Is there any thing 
that tends to incitation in sweetmeats more than in ordinary 
dishes ? Certainly not. Sugar-plums are a very innocent diet, 
and conserves of a much colder nature than our common pickles. 
I have sometimes thought, that the ceremony of the chaplain's 
flying away from the dessert was typical and figurative, to mark 
out to the company how they ought to retire from alj the luscious 
baits of temptation, and deny their appetites the gratifications 
that are most pleasing to them ; or at least to signify, that we 
ought to stint ourselves in our most lawful satisfactions, and not 
make our pleasure, but our support, the end of eating. But 
most certainly, if such a lesson of temperance had been neces- 
sary at a table, our clergy would have recommended it to all the 
laymasters of families, and not have disturbed other men's tables 
with such unseasonable examples of abstinence. The original, 
therefore, of this barbarous custom, I take to have been merely 
accidental. The chaplain retired out of pure complaisance, to 
make room for the removal of the dishes, or possibly for the 
ranging of the dessert. This by degrees grew into a duty, till 
at length, as the fashion improved, the good man found himself 
cut off from the third part of the entertainment ; and if the ar 
rogan^e of the patron goes on, it is not impossible, but, in the 
uext generation, he may see himself reduced to the tythe, or 
tenth dish of the table ; a sufficient caution not to part with any 



270 THE TATLER [No. 255. 

privilege we are once possessed of. It was usual for the priest, 
in old times, to feast upon the sacrifice, nay the honey-cake, 
while the hungry laity looked upon him with great devotion, or, 
as the late Lord Rochester describes it in a lively manner : 

And while the priest did eat, the people stared 

At present the custom is inverted ; the laity feast, while the 
priest stands by as an humble spectator. This necessarily puts 
the good man upon making great ravages on all the dishes that 
stand near him, and distinguishing himself by voraciousness of 
appetite, as knowing that his time is short. I would fain ask 
these stiff-necked patrons, whether they would not take it ill of a 
chaplain that, in his grace after meat, should return thanks for 
the whole entertainment, with an exception to the dessert 1 And 
yet I cannot, but think, that in such a proceeding, he would but 
deal with them as they deserved. What would a Roman Cath- 
olic priest think, who is always helped first, and placed next to 
the ladies, should he see a clergyman giving his company the slip 
at the first appearance of the tarts or sweetmeats ? "Would not 
he believe that he had the same antipathy to a candied orange, 
or a piece of puff paste, as some have to a Cheshire cheese, or a 
breast of mutton ? Yet to so ridiculous a height is this foolish 
custom grown, that even the Christmas pye, which in its very 
nature is a kind of consecrated cate, and a badge of distinction, 
is often forbidden to the Druid of the family. Strange ! that a 
sirloin of beef, whether boiled or roasted, when entire, is exposed 
to his utmost depredations and incisions ; but if minced into 
small pieces, and tossed up with plums and sugar, charges its 
property, and, forsooth, is meat for his master. 

In this case I know not which to censure, the patron or the 
chaplain ; the insolence of power, or the abjectness of depend- 
ance. For my own part, I have often blushed to see a gentle- 



K'o. 255.] THE TATLER. 271 

man, whom I knew to have much more wit and learning than 
myself, and who was bred up with me at the University upon the 
same foot of a liberal education, treated in such an ignominious 
manner, and sunk beneath those of his own rank, by reason of 
that character which ought to bring him honour. This deters 
men of generous minds from placing themselves in such a station 
of life, and by that means frequently excludes persons of quality 
from the improving and agreeable conversation of a learned and 
obsequious friend. 

Mr. Oldham lets us know, that he was affrighted from the 
thought of such an employment, by the scandalous sort of treat- 
ment which often accompanies it. a 

Some think themselves exalted to the sky, 

If they light in some noble family : 

Diet, an horse, and thirty pounds a year, 

Besides th' advantage of his lordship's ear, 

The credit of the business, and the state, 

Are things that in a youngster's sense sound great 

Little the unexperienc'd wretch does know, 

What slavery he oft must undergo ; 

Who though in silken scarf, and cassoc drest, 

Wears but a gayer livery at best. 

When dinner calls, the implement must wait 

With holy words to consecrate the meat. 

But hold it for a favour seldom known, 

Jf he be deign'd the honour to sit down. 

Soon as the tarts appear, Sir Crape withdraw, 

Those dainties are not for a spiritual maw. 

Observe your distance, and be sure to stand 

Hard by the cistern with your cap in hand : 

There for diversion you may pick your teeth, 

Till the kind voider comes for your relief. 

Let others who such meannesses can brook, 

Sti'ike countenance to ev'ry great man's look; 

I rate my freedom higher. 

* In "A Satyr, addressed to a friend that is about to leave the Univer- 
sity," &c. V. Oldham's works, 1*703. 8vo. p. 391.— N 



272 THE TATLER. U*<>. 256 

This author's raillery is the raillery of a friend, and does not 
turn the sacred order into ridicule, but is a just censure on such 
persons as take advantage from the necessities of a man of merit, 
to impose on him hardships that are hy no means suitable to the 
dignity of his profession. 



No. 256. TUESDAY NOVEMBER 28, 1710. 

Nostrum est tantas componere Lites. — YntG. 

The proceedings of the Court of Honour, held in Sheet Lane, 
on Monday, the 20th of November, 1710, before Isaac Bick- 
er staff e, Esq. Censor of Great Britain. 

Peter Plumb, of London, merchant, was indicted by the 
Honourable Mr. Thomas Gules, of Gule Hall, in the county of 
Salop, for that the said Peter Plumb did in Lombard Street, 
London, between the hours of two and three in the afternoon, 
meet the said Mr. Thomas Gules, and after a short salutation, 
put on his hat, value five pence, while the Honourable Mr. Gules 
stood bare-headed for the space of two seconds. It was further 
urged against the criminal, that, during his discourse with the 
prosecutor, he feloniously stole the wall of him, having clapped 
his back against it in such a manner that it was impossible for 
Mr. Gules to recover it again at his taking leave of him. The 
prosecutor alledged, that he was the cadet of a very ancient fami- 
ly, and that, according to the principles of all the younger broth- 
ers of the said family, he had never sullied himself with busi- 
ness, but had chosen rather to starve like a man of honour, than 
do anv thing beneath his quality. He produced several Witness- 
es, that he had never employed himself beyond the twisting .»f & 



No. 256.] THE TATLER. 273 

whip, or the making of a pair of nutcrackers, in which he only 
worked for his diversion, in order to make a present now and 
then to his friends. The prisoner being" asked what he could say 
for himself, cast several roflections upon the Honourable Mr. 
Gules : as, that he was not worth a groat ; that nobody in the 
city would trust him for a half-penny ; that he owed him money 
which he had promised to pay him several times, but never kept 
his word: and, in short, that he was an idle, beggarly fellow, and 
of no use to the public. This sort of language was very se- 
verely reprimanded by the Censor, who told the criminal, that 
he spoke in contempt of the court, and that he should be pro- 
ceeded against for contumacy, if he did not change his style. 
The prisoner, therefore, desired to be heard by his counsel, who 
urged in his defence, ' That he put on his hat through ignorance, 
and took the wall by accident.' They likewise produced several 
witnesses, that he made several motions with his hat in his hand, 
which are generally understood as an invitation to the person we 
talk with to be covered ; and that the gentleman not taking the 
hint, he was forced to put on his hat, as being troubled with a 
cold. There was likewise an Irishman who deposed, that he had 
heard him cough three and twenty times that morning. And as 
for the wall, it was alleged, that he had taken it inadvertently 
to save himself from a shower of rain which was then falling. 
The Censor having consulted the men of honour who sat at his 
right hand on the bench, found they were of opinion, that the 
defence made by the prisoner's counsel did rather aggravate than 
extenuate his crime ; that the motions and intimations of the hat 
were a token of superiority in conversation, and therefore not to 
be used by the criminal to a man of the prosecutor's quality, 
who was likewise vested with a double title to the wall at the 
time of their conversation, both as it was the upper hand, and as 
it was a shelter from the weather. The evidence being very full 
vol. iv. — 12* 



•274 THE TaTLER. [No. 256. 

and clear, the jury, without going out of court, declared their 
opinion unanimously by the mouth of their foreman, that the 
prosecutor was bound in honour to make the sun shine through 
the criminal, or, as they afterwards explained themselves, to whip 
him through the lungs. 

The Censor knitting his brows into a frown, and looking very 
sternly upon the jury, after a little pause, gave them to know, 
that this court was erected for the finding out of penalties suit- 
able to offences, and to restrain the outrages of private justice ; 
and that he expected they should moderate their verdict. The 
jury, therefore, retired, and being willing to comply with the ad- 
vices of the Censor, after an hour's consultation, declared their 
opinion as follows : 

1 That in consideration this was Peter Plumb's first offence, 
and that there did not appear any ' malice prepense ' in it, as also 
that he lived in good reputation among his neighbours, and that 
his taking the wall was only se defende?ido, the prosecutor should 
let him escape with life, and content himself with the slitting of 
his nose, and the cutting off both his ears.' Mr. Bickerstaffe 
smiling upon the court, told them, that he thought the punish- 
ment, even under its present mitigation, too severe ; and that 
such penalties might be of ill consequence in a trading nation. 
He therefore pronounced sentence against the criminal in the fol- 
lowing manner : l That his hat, which was the instrument of of- 
fence, should be forfeited to the court ; that the criminal should 
go to the warehouse from whence he came, and thence, as occa- 
sion should require, proceed to the Exchange, or Garraway's 
coffee-house, in what manner he pleased; but that neither he, 
nor any of the family of the Plumbs, should hereafter appear in 
the streets of London out of their coaches, that so the foot-way 
might be left open and undisturbed for their betters.' 

Dathan, a peddling Jew, and T. R — , a Welshman, were in- 



No. 256.] THE TATLER. *Z75 

dieted by the keeper of an alehouse in Westminster, for break- 
ing the peace and two earthen mugs, in a dispute about the anti- 
quity of their families, to the great detriment of the house, and 
disturbance of the whole neighbourhood. Dathan said for him 
himself, that he was provoked to it by the Welshman, who pre 
tended that the Welsh were an ancienter people than the Jews , 
' Whereas, (says he,) I can shew by this genealogy in my hand, 
that I am the son of Mesheck, that was the son of Naboth, that 
was the son of Shaleni, that was the son of — ' The Welshman 
here interrupted him, and told him, ' That he could produce 
shennalogy as well as himself; for that he was John ap Rice, 
ap Shenkin, ap Shones.' He then turned himself to the Censor, 
and told him in the same broken accent, and with muoh warmth, 
' That the Jew would needs uphold, that King Cadwallader was 
younger than Issachar.' Mr. Bickerstaffe seemed very much 
inclined to give sentence against Dathan, as being a Jew, but find- 
ing reasons, by some expressions which the Welshman let fall 
in asserting the antiquity of his family, to suspect that the said 
Welshman was a Prae-Adamite, ' he suffered the jury to go out, 
without any previous admonition. After some time they returned, 
and gave their verdict, that it appearing the persons at the bar 
did neither of them wear a sword, and that consequently they had 
no right to quarrel upon a point of honour ; to prevent such fri- 
volous appeals for the future, they should both of them be tossed 
in the same blanket, and there adjust the superiority as they 
could agree it between themselves. The Censor confirmed the 
verdict. 

Richard Newman was indicted by Major Punto, for having 
used the words, ' Perhaps it may be so,' in a dispute with the 
said major. The major urged, that the word ' Perhaps,' was 
questioning his veracity, and that it was an indirect manner of 

1 V. TatWr 69 and note at the end of first vol. of Nichols's ed.— G. 



-.76 THE TATLER. LNo. 256 

giving him the lie. Bichard Newman had rathing more to say 
for himself, than that he intended no such thing, and threw him- 
self upon the mercy of the court. The jury brought in their ver- 
dict special. 

Mr. Bickerstaffe stood up, and after having cast his eyes ovei 
the whole assembly, hemmed thrice. He then acquainted them, 
that he had laid down a rule to himself, which he was resolved 
never to depart from, and which, as he conceived, would very 
much conduce to the shortening the business of the court; I 
mean, says he, never to allow of the lie being given by construc- 
tion, implication, or induction, but by the sole use of the word 
itself. He then proceeded to show the great mischiefs that had 
arisen to the English nation from that pernicious monosyllable ; 
that it had bred the most fatal quarrels between the dearest 
friends ; that it had frequently thinned the guards, and made 
great havoc in the army ; that it had sometimes weakened the 
city trained-bands ; and, in a word, had destroyed many of the 
bravest men in the isle of Great Britain. For the prevention of 
which evils for the future, he instructed the jury to ' present ' 
the word itself as a nuisance in the English tongue ; and further 
promised them, that ho would, upon such their presentment, pub- 
lish an edict of the court for the entire banishment and exclusion 
of it out of the discourses and conversation of all civil societies. 
This is a true copy, Charles Lillie. 

Monday next is set apart for the trial of several female causes. 

N. B. The case of the hassock will come on between the 

hours of nine and ten. 

Sir Richard Steele assisted in this paper.*- T. 

a There is humour in this paper. But the pertness of style, and rant 
of expression, in some places, especially in Dathan's case, shews clearly 
enough, that Sir Richard Steele had a hand in it. [If Steele had writtcij 
this sentence our bishop would probably have sent him back to his gram- 
mar for the rule of nominative and verb. — G.] 



No. 25*7 ] T H E T A T L E R . 277 

No. 257. THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 17 L0. 

In nova fert animus mutatas dicere formas 
Corpora: Dii, coeptis (nam vos mutastis et illas) 
Aspirate meis. Ovid. Met. 

From my own Apartment, November 29, 

Eve*iy nation is distinguished by productions that are pecu- 
liar to it. Great Britain is particularly fruitful in religions, that 
shoot up and flourish in this climate more than in any other. 
We are so famous abroad for our great variety of sects and opin- 
ions, that an ingenious friend of mine, who is lately returned 
from his travels, assures me, there is a show at this time carried 
up and down in Germany, which represents all the religions in 
Great Britain in wax-work. Notwithstanding that the pliancy 
of the matter in which the images are wrought, makes it capable 
of being moulded into all shapes and figures, my friend tells me, 
that he did not think it possible for it to be twisted and tortured 
into so many screwed faces and wry features as appeared in sev- 
eral of the figures that composed the show. I was, indeed, so 
pleased with the design of the German artist, that I begged my 
friend to give me an account of it in all its particulars, which he 
did after the following manner : 

' I have often, says he, ' been present at a show of elephants, 
camels, dromedaries, and other strange creatures, but I never 
saw so great an assembly of spectators as were met together at the 
opening of this great piece of waxwork. We were all placed in a 
xarge hall, according to the price that we had paid for our seats. 
The curtain that hung before the show was made by a master 
of tapestry, who had woven it in the figure of a monstrous hydra 
that had several heads, which brandished out their tongues, and 
seemed to hiss at each other. Some of these heads were large 
and entire ; and where any of them had been lopped away, there 



278 THE TATLER. [No. 257 

sprouted up several in the room of them ; insomuch that for one 
head cut off, a man might see ten, twenty, or an hundred of a 
smaller size, creeping through the wound. In short, the whole 
picture was nothing but confusion and bloodshed. On a sudden,' 
says my friend, ' I was startled with a flourish of many musical 
instruments that I had never heard before, which was followed 
by a short tune (if it might be so called) wholly made up of jars 
and discords. Among the rest, there was an organ, a bagpipe, a 
groaning board, 1 a stentorophonic trumpet, with several wind in- 
struments of a most disagreeable sound, which I do not so mueh 
as know the names of. After a short flourish, the curtain was 
drawn up, and we were presented with the most extraordina- 
ry assembly of figures that ever entered into a man's imagination 
The design of the workman was so well expressed in the dumb 
show before us, that it was not hard for an Englishman to com 
prehend the meaning of it. 

' The principal figures were placed in a row, consisting of 
seven persons. The middle figure, which immediately attracted 
the eyes of the whole company, and was much bigger than the rest, 
was formed like a matron, dressed in the habit of an elderly 
woman of quality in Queen Elizabeth's days. The most remark- 
able parts of her dress, was the beaver with the steeple crown, 
the scarf that was darker than sable, and the lawn apron that was 
whiter than ermine. Her gown was of the richest black velvet, 
and just upon her heart studded with large diamonds of an ines- 
timable value, disposed in the form of a cross. She bore an inex- 
pressible cheerfulness and dignity in her aspect : and though she 
seemed in years, appeared with so much spirit and vivacity, as 
gave her at the same time an air of old age and immortality. I 
found my heart touched with so much love and reverence at the 
sight of her, that the tears ran down my face as 1 looked upoo 
1 V. Nichols's note ad. loc. — Gr. 



No. 25T.] THE TATLER, 27£ 

her; and still the more I looked upon her, the more my 
heart was melted with the sentiments of filial tenderness 
and duty. I discovered every moment something so charming 
in this figure that I could scarce take my eyes off it. On its 
right hand there sat a figure of a woman so covered with orna- 
ments, that her face, her body, and her hands were almost en- 
tirely hid under them. The little you could see of her face 
was painted ; and what I thought very odd, had something in it 
like artificial wrinkles ; but I was the less surprised at it, when 
I saw upon her forehead an old-fashioned tower' of grey hairs. 
Her head-dress rose very high by three several stories or degrees ; 
her garments had a thousand colours in them, and were embroid- 
ered with crosses in gold, silver and silk : she had nothing on, so 
much as a glove or a slipper, which was not marked with this 
figure ', nay, so superstitiously fond did she appear of it, that 
she sat cross-legged. I was quickly sick of this tawdry com- 
position of ribbons, silks, and jewels, and therefore cast my 
eye on a dame which was just the reverse of it. I need not 
tell my reader, that the lady before described was Popery, or 
that she I am now going to describe is Presbytery. She sat on 
the left hand of the venerable matron, and so much resembled 
her in the features of her countenance, that she seemed her sis- 
ter ; but at the same time that one observed a likeness in her 
beauty, one could not but take notice, that there was something 
in it sickly and splenetic. Her face had enough to discover the 
relation, but it was drawn up into a peevish figure, soured with 
discontent, and overcast with melancholy. She seemed offended 
at the matron for the shape of her hat, as too much resembling 
the triple coronet of the person who sat by her. One might see, 
likewise, that she dissented from the white apron and the cross ; 
for which reasons she had made herself a plain homely dowdy, 
and turned her face towards the sectaries that sat on the left 



280 THE TATLER. [No. 257 

hand, as being afraid of looking upon the matron, lest she should 
see the harlot by her. 

1 On the right hand of Popery sat Judaism, represented bj 
an old man embroidered with phylacteries, and distinguished bj 
many typical figures, which I had not skill enough to unriddle 
He was placed among the rubbish of a temple ; but instead of 
weeping over it, (which I should have expected from him) he was 
counting out a bag cf money upon the ruins of it. 

4 On his right hand was Deism, or Natural Religion. This 
was a figure of an half-naked awkward country wench, who with 
proper ornaments and education would have made an agreeable 
and beautiful appearance ; but for want of those advantages, was 
such a spectacle as a man would blush to look upon. 

* I have now,' continued my friend, ' given you an account of 
those who were placed on the right hand of the matron, and who, 
according to the order in which they sat, were Deism, Judaism, 
and Popery. On the left hand, as I told you, appeared Presby- 
tery. The next to her was a figure which somewhat puzzled 
me : it was that of a man looking, with horror in his eyes, upon 
a silver bason filled with water. Observing something in his 
countenance that looked like lunacy, I fancied at first that he was 
to express that kind of distraction which the physicians call the 
Hydrophobia : but considering what the intention of the show 
was, I immediately recollected myself, and concluded it to be 
Anabaptism. 

' The next figure was a man that sat under a most profound 
composure of mind : he wore an hat whose brims were exactly 
parallel to the horizon : his garment had neither sleeve nor skirt, 
nor so much as a superfluous button. What he called his cravat 
was a little piece of white linen quilled with great exactness, and 
hanging below his chin about two inches. Seeing a book in his 
hand, I asked our artist what it was, who told me it was the 



No. 257.] THETATLER. 281 

Quaker's religion ; upon which I desired a sight of it. Upon 
perusal, I found it to be nothing but a new-fashioned grammar, 
or an art of abridging ordinary discourse. The nouns were 
reduced to a very small number, as the light, friend, Babylon. 
The principal of his pronouns was thou ; and as for you, ye, and 
yours, I found they were not looked upon as parts of speech in 
this grammar. All the verbs wanted the second person plural ; 
the participles ending all in ing or ed, which were marked with 
a particular accent. There were no adverbs besides yea and nay. 
The same thrift was observed in the prepositions. The conjunc- 
tions were only hem I and ha ! and the interjections brought un- 
der the three heads of sighing, sobbing, and groaning. There 
was at the end of the grammar a little nomenclature, called 
* The Christian man's Vocabulary,' which gave new appellations, 
or, (if you will) Christian names to almost every thing in life. ] 
replaced the book in the hand of the figure, not without admir- 
ing the simplicity of its garb, speech, and behaviour. 

1 Just opposite to this row of ^religions there was a statue 
dressed in a fool's coat, with a cap of bells upon his head, laugh- 
ing and pointing at the figures that stood before him. This ideot 
is supposed to say in his heart what David's fool did some thou- 
sands of years ago, and was therefore designed as a proper repre- 
sentative of those among us who are called atheists and infidels 
by others, and free-thinkers by themselves. 

' There were many other groups of figures which I did not 
know the meaning of ; but seeing a collection of both sexes turn- 
ing their backs upon the company, and laying their heads very 
close together,- I inquired after their religion, and found that 
they called themselves the Philadelphians, or the family of 
love. 

1 In the opposite corner there sat another little congregation 
of strange figures, opening their mouths as wide as they could 



282 THE TATLEE. [N<>. 257. 

gape, and distinguished by the title of ' The sweet Singers of 
Israel.' 

' I must not omit, that in this assembly of wax there were 
several pieces that moved by clockwork, and gave great satisfac- 
tion to the spectators. Behind the matron there stood one of 
these figures, and behind Popery another, which, as the artist 
told us, were each of them the genius of the person they attend 
ed. That behind Pop,ery represented Persecution, and the other 
Moderation. The first of these moved by secret springs towards 
a great heap of dead bodies that lay piled upon one another at a 
considerable distance behind the principal figures. There were 
written on the foreheads of these dead men several hard words, 
a.° Prse- Adamites, Sabbatarians, Cameronians, Muggletonians, 
Brownists, Independents, Masonites, Camisars, and the like. At 
the approach of Persecution, it was so contrived, that as she held 
up her bloody flag, the whole assembly of dead men, like those in 
the Rehearsal, started up and drew their swords. This was fol- 
lowed by great clashings and noise, when, in the midst of the 
tumult, the figure of Moderation moved gently towards this new 
army, which, upon her holding up a paper in her hand, inscribed, 
1 Liberty of Conscience,' immediately fell into a heap of cai- 
casses, remaining in the same quiet posture that they lay at 
first.' a 

a The ridicule in this inimitable paper, on the several sects of religion, 
is so pointed ard strong, that the gravest reader cannot help laughing at 
it ; yet so guai\led and chaste, at the same time, that no part of it is seen 
to fall on religion itself. — It is to be lamented, that another of onr wits, I 
mean in the famous Tale of a Tub, was either not so discreet, or not 80 
happy. — [And here again, according to Nichols, Steele and Adc 'son wrote 
together.] — G. 



No. 259.] THE TATLER 283 

No. 259. TUESDAY, DECEMBER 5, 1710. 

Yexat censura columbas. — Jut. 

.4 Continuation of the Journal of the Court of Honour, hcto, 
in Sheer-Lane, on Monday the 27th of November, before 
Isaac Bickerstaffe, Esq. Censor of Great Britain. 

Elizabeth Makebate, of the parish of St. Catherine's, spins- 
ter, was indicted for surreptitiously taking away the hassoc from 
under the Lady Grave- Airs, between the hours of four and five, 
on Sunday the 26th of November. The prosecutor deposed, that 
as she stood up to make a curtsey to a person of quality in a 
neighbouring pew, the criminal conveyed away the hassoc by 
stealth, insomuch that the prosecutor was obliged to sit all the 
while she was at church, or to say her prayers in a posture that 
did not become a woman of her quality. The prisoner pleaded 
inadvertency; and the jury were going to bring it in chance- 
medley, had not several witnesses been produced against the said 
Elizabeth Makebate, that she was an- old offender, and a woman 
of a' bad reputation. It appeared in particular, that on the Sun- 
day before she had detracted from a new petticoat of Mrs. Mary 
Doelittle, having said in the hearing of several credible witness- 
es, that the said petticoat was scowered, to the great grief and 
detriment of the said Mary Doelittle. There were likewise many 
evidences produced against the criminal, that though she never 
failed to come to church on Sunday, she was a most notorious 
Sabbath-breaker, and that she spent her whole time, during divine 
service, in disparaging other people's clothes, and whispering tt 
those who sat next her. Upon the whole, she was found guilty 
of the indictment, and received sentence to ask pardon of th p 
prosecutor upon her bare knees, without either cushion or hassoc 
under her, in the face of the court. 

N. B. As soon as the sentence was executed on the criminal 



284 THE TATLER. [No. 259. 

which was done in open court with the utmost severity, the first 
lady of the bench on Mr. Biekerstaffe's right-hand stood up, and . 
made a motion to the court, that whereas it was impossible for 
women of fashion to dress themselves before the church was half 
done, and whereas many confusions and inconveniencies did arise 
thereupon, it might be lawful for them to send a footman, in order 
to keep their places, as was usual in other polite and well regulat- 
ed assemblies. The motion was ordered to be entered in the 
books, and considered at a more convenient time. 

Charles Cambrick, Linen-draper, in the city of Westminster, 
was indicted for speaking obscenely to the Lady Penelope Touch- 
wood. It appeared, that the prosecutor and her woman, going 
in a stage-coach from London to Brentford, where they were to 
be met by the lady's own chariot, the criminal and another of his 
acquaintance travelled with them in the same coach, at which 
time the prisoner talked bawdy for the space of three miles and 
a half. The prosecutor alledged, ' That over-against the Old 
Fox at Knightsbridge, he mentioned the word linen ; that at the 
further end of Kensington he made use of the term smock ; and 
that before he came to Hammersmith, he talked almost a quarter 
of an hour upon wedding-shifts.' The prosecutor's woman con- 
firmed what her lady had said, and added further, ' that she had 
never seen her lady in so great a confusion, and in such a taking, 
as she was during the whole discourse of the criminal.' The 
prisoner had little to say for himself, but that he talked only in 
his own trade, and meant no hurt by what he said. The jury, 
however, found him guilty, and represented by their fore-woman, 
that such discourses were apt to sully the imagination, and that 
by a concatenation of ideas, the word linen implied many things 
that were not proper to be stirred up in the mind of a woman 
who was of the prosecutor's quality, and therefore gave it as 
their verdict, that the linen-draper should lose his tongue. Mr 



No. 259.] THE TATLER. 285 

Bickerstaffe said, ' He tliouglit the prosecutor's ears were as 
much to blame as the prisoner's tongue, and therefore gave sen- 
tence as follows : That they should both be placed over-against 
one another in the midst of the court, there to remain for the 
space of one quarter of an hour, during which time, the linen- 
draper was to be gagged, and the lady to hold her hands close 
upon both her ears ;' which was executed accordingly. 

Edward Callicoat was indicted as an accomplice to Charles 
Cambrick, for that he the said Edward Callicoat did, by his 
silence and his smiles, seem to approve and abet the said Charles 
Cambrick in every thing he said. It appeared, that the prisoner 
was foreman of the shop to the aforesaid Charles Cambrick, and 
by his post obliged to smile at every thing that the other should 
be pleased to say : upon which he was acquitted. 

Josias Shallow was indicted in the name of Dame Winifred, 
sole relict of Richard Dainty, Esq. for having said several times 
in company, and in the hearing of several persons there present, 
that he was extremely obliged to the widow Dainty, and that he 
should never be able sufficiently to express his gratitude. The 
prosecutor urged, that this might blast her reputation, and that 
it was in effect a boasting of favours which he had never received. 
The prisoner seemed to be much astonished at the construction 
which was put upon his words, and said, ' That he meant nothing 
by them, but that the widow had befriended him in a lease, and 
was very kind to his younger sister.' The jury finding him a 
little weak in his understanding, without going out of the court, 
brought in their verdict, ignoramus. 

Ursula Groodenough was accused by the Lady Betty Wou'dbe, 
for having said, that she the Lady Betty Wou'dbe was painted. 
The prisoner brought several persons of good credit to witness 
to her reputation, and proved by undeniable evidences, that she 
was never at the place where the words were said to have been 



286 THE TATLER. [No. 259. 

utterel. The censor observing the behaviour of the prosecutor, 
found reason to believe that she had indicted the prisoner for no 
other reason but to make her complexion be taken notice of, 
which indeed was very fresh and beautiful : he therefore asked 
the offender with a very stern voice, how she could presume to 
spread so groundless a report ? And whether she saw any colours 
in the Lady Wou'dbe's face that could procure credit to such a 
falsehood ? ' Do you see (says he) any lilies or roses in her 

cheeks, any bloom, any probability ? ' The prosecutor, not 

able to bear such language any longer, told him, that he talked 
like a blind old fool, and that she was ashamed to have enter- 
tained any opinion of his wisdom : but she was put to silence, 
and sentenced to wear her mask for five months, 1 and not to pre- 
sume to show her face till the town should be empty. 

Benjamin Buzzard, Esq., was indicted for having told the 
Lady Everbloom at a public ball, that she looked very well for a 
woman of her years. The prisoner not denying the fact, and 
persisting before the court that he looked upon it as a compli- 
ment, the jury brought him in non compos mentis. 

The court then adjourned to Monday the 11th instant.* 

Copia Vera, Charles Lillie; 

Sir Richard Steele assisted in this paper. T. 

l V. Tat 193 ind note on masks, vol. v., pp. 186-7 — Nichols's ed. — 0. 



• V. Tat 262.— N. 



Na260.J THE TATLER. 287 

No. 260. THURSDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1710. 

Non cuicunque datum est habere nasum.— Mart. 

From my own Apartment, December 6. 
We have a very learned and elaborate dissertation upon 
thumbs in Montaigne's Essays, and another upon ears in th^ 
Tale of a Tub. I am here going to write one upon noses, having 
chosen for my text the following verses out of Hudibras : 

So learned Talieotius from 
The brawny part of Porter's bum 
Cut supplemental noses, which 
Lasted as long as parent breech : 
But when the date of nock was out, 
Off dropp'd the sympathetic snout. 

Notwithstanding that there is nothing obscene in natural 
knowledge, and that I intend to give as little offence as may be 
to readers of a well-bred imagination, I must, for my own quiet, 
desire the critics (who in all times have been famous for good 
noses) to refrain from the lecture a of this curious tract. These 
gentlemen were formerly marked out and distinguished by the 
little rhinocerical nose, which was always looked upon as an in- 
strument of derision, and which they were used to cock, toss, or 
draw up in a contemptuous manner, upon reading the works of 
their ingenious contemporaries. It is not, therefore, for this 
generation of men that I write the present transaction. 

Minus aptus acutis 

Naribus horum hominum. b 

but for the sake of some of my philosophical friends in the Royal 

a He says, the "lecture" instead of the "reading" or " the perusal of," 
to ridicule the pedantic *t,yle of learned critics. 

b Pleasantly said. But this paper (except in one instance, or two. 
which 3 lall be pointed out) has nothing to apprehend from the best-nosed 



288 THE TATLER. P^O. 26a 

Society, who peruse discourses of this nature with a becoming 
gravity, and a desire of improving by them. 

Many are the opinions of learned men concerning the rise of 
that fatal distemper which has always taken a particular pleasure 
in venting its spite upon the nose. I have seen a little burlesque 
poem in Italian that gives a very pleasant account of this matter. 
The fable of it runs thus : Mars, the god of war, having served 
during the siege of Naples in the shape of a French colonel, re- 
ceived a visit one night from Venus, the goddess of love, who 
had b^en always his professed mistress and admirer. The poem 
says, she came to him in the disguise of a suttling wench, with a 
bottle of brandy under her arm. Let that be as it will, he man- 
aged matters so well, that she went away big-bellied, and was at 
length brought to bed of a little Cupid. This boy, whether it 
were by means of any bad food that his father had eaten during 
the siege, or of any particular malignity in the stars that reigned 
at his nativity, came into the world with a very sickly look, and 
crazy constitution. As soon as he was able to handle his bow, 
he made discoveries of a most perverse disposition. He dipped 
all his arrows in poison, that rotted every thing they touched ; 
and what was more particular, aimed all his shafts at the nose, 
quite contrary to the practice of his elder brothers, who had made 
a human heart their butt in all countries and ages. To break 
him of this roguish trick, his parents put him to school to Mer- 
cury, who did all he could to hinder him from demolishing the 
noses of mankind ; but in spite of education, the boy continued 
very unlucky ; and though his malice was a little softened by 
good instructions, he would very frequently let fly an envenomed 
arrow, and wound his votaries oftener in the nose than in the 
heart. Thus far the fable. 

I need not tell my learned reader, that Correggio has drawn 
a Cupid taking his lesson from Mercury, conformable to this 



No. 260.] THE TATLER. 289 

poem ; nor that the poem itself was designed as a burlesque upon 
Fracastorius. 

It was a little after this fatal siege of Naples that Talicotius 
begun to practise in a town of Germany. He was the first clap- 
doctor that I meet with in history, and a greater man in his age 
than our celebrated Dr. Wall. He saw his species extremely 
mutilated and disfigured by this new distemper that was crept" 
into it ; and therefore, in pursuance of a very seasonable inven- 
tion, set up a manufacture of noses, having first got a patent that 
none should presume to make noses besides himself. His first 
patient was a great man of Portugal, who had done good services 
to his country, but in the midst of them unfortunately lost his 
nose. Talicotius grafted a new one on the remaining part of the 
gristle or cartilaginous substance, which would sneeze, smell, take 
snuff, pronounce the letters m or w, and in short, do all the 
functions of a genuine and natural nose. There was, however, 
one misfortune in this experiment. The Portuguese's com- 
plexion was a little upon the subfusc, with very black eyes and 
dark eyebrows, and the nose being taken from a porter that had 
a white German skin, and cut out of those parts that are not ex- 
posed to the sun, it was very visible that the features of his face 
were not fellows. In a word, the Conde resembled one of those 
maimed antique statues that has often a modern nose of fresh 
marble glued to a face of such a yellow ivory complexion as no- 
thing can give but age. To remedy this particular for the fu- 
ture, the ioctor got together a great collection of porters, men 
of all complexions, black, brown, fair, dark, sallow, pale, and 
ruddy ; so that it was impossible for a patient of the most out- 
of-the-way colour not to find a nose to match it. 

The doctor's house was now very much enlarged, and become 

B Was crept. " Creep " being a neutral verb, I should rather have 
*aid — " had crept" 

VOL. IV. — 13 



290 THE TATLER. [No. 260. 

a kind of college, or rather hospital, for the fashionable cripples 
of both sexes that resorted to him from all parts of Europe. 
Over his door was fastened a large golden snout, not unlike that 
which is placed over the great gates at Brazen-Nose College in 
Oxford ; and as it is usual for the learned in foreign universities 
to distinguish their houses by a Latin sentence, the doctor writ 
underneath this great golden proboscis two verses out of Ovid : 

Militat omnis amans, habet et sua castra Cupido, 
Poiitice, crede mihi, militat omnis amans. 

It is reported, that Talicotius had at one time in his house 
twelve German counts, nineteen French marquisses, and a hun 
dred Spanish cavaliers, besides one solitary English esquire, of 
whom more hereafter. Though the doctor had the monopoly of 
noses in his own hands, he is said not to have been unreasonable. 
Indeed if a man had occasion for a high Roman nose, he must go 
to the price of it. A carbuncle nose likewise bore an excessive 
rate : but for your ordinary short turned-up noses, of which there 
was the greatest consumption, they cost little or nothing; at least 
the purchasers thought so, who would have been content 10 have 
raid much dearer for them, rather than to have gone without 
them. a 

The sympathy betwixt the nose and its parent was very ex- 
traordinary. Hudibras has told us, that when the porter died, 
the nose dropped of course, in which case it was always usual to 
return the nose, in order to have it interred with its first owner. 
The nose was likewise affected by the pain as well as death of the 
original proprietor. An eminent instance of this nature happen- 
ed to three Spaniards, whose noses were all made out of the same 
piece of brawn. They found them one day shoot and swell ex- 
tremely, upok which they sent to know how the porter did, and 

a The same fault as in No. 249. 



No. 260. j THE TATLER. 291 

heard, upon inquiry, that the parent of the noses had been se- 
verely kicked the day before, and that the porter kept his bed on 
account of the bruises it had received. This was highly resented 
by the Spaniards, who found out the person that had used the 
porter so unmercifully, and treated him in the same manner as if 
the indignity had been done to their own noses. In this and 
several other cases it might be said, that the porters led the gen- 
tlemen by the nose. 

On the other hand, if any thing went amiss with the nose, the 
porter felt the effects of it, insomuch that it was generally articled 
with the patient, that he should not only abstain from all his old 
courses, but should on no pretence whatsoever smell pepper, or 
eat mustard ,• on which occasion, the part where the incision had 
been made was seized with unspeakable twinges and prickings. 

The Englishman I before mentioned was so very irregular, 
and relapsed so frequently into the distemper which at first 
brought him to the learned Talicotius, that in the space of two 
years, he wore out five noses, and by that means so tormented 
the porters, that if he would have given 500/. for a nose, there 
was not one of them that would accommodate him. This young 
gentleman was born of honest parents, and passed his first years 
in fox-hunting ; but accidentally quitting the woods, and coming 
up to London, he was so charmed with the beauties of the play- 
house, that he had not been in town two days before he got the 
misfortune which carried off this part of his face. He used to 
be called in Germany, the Englishman of five noses, and, the gen- 
tleman that had thrice as many noses as he had ears : such was 
the raillery of those times. 

I shall close this paper with an admonition to the young men 
of this town, which I think the more necessary, because I see 
several new fresh-coloured faces, that have made their first ap- 
pearance in it this winter. I must therefore assure them that 



292 TVftE * T A T L E R . IP* 26a. 

the art of making noses is entirely lost; and in; the next place, 
beg them not to follow the example of our ordinary town-rakes, 
who live as if there waa a Talicotius to be met with at the corner 
of every street. Whatever young men may think, the nose is a 
very becoming part of the face, and a man makes but a very silly 
figure without it. But it is the nature of youth not to know the 
value of any thing till they have lost it. The general precept, 
therefore, I shall leave with them is, to regard every town-woman 
as a particular kind of Siren, that has a design upon their noses ; 
and that, amidst her flatteries and allurements, they will fancy 
she speaks to them in that humorous phrase of old Plautus : 

Ego tibi faciem denasabo mordicus. 

* Keep your face out of my way, or I'll bite off your nose." 

Steele, according to Nichols, assisted in this paper. — G-. 



No. 262. TUESDAY, DECEMBER 12. 1710. 

Verba togse sequeris, junctura callidus acri, 

Ore teres modico, pallentes radere mores, 

Doctus et ingenuo culpam defigere ludo : — Pees. Sat. 5. 

Journal of the Court of Honour, SfC 

Timothy Treatall, Gent, was indicted by several ladies of 
his sister's acquaintance for a very rude affront offered to them at 
an entertainment, to which he had invited them on Tuesday the 
7th of November last past, between the hours of eight and nine 
in the evening. The indictment set forth, that the said Mr. 
Treatall, upon the serving up of the supper, desired the ladies to 
take their places according to their different age and seniority, 
for that it was the way always at his table to pay respect to 
years. The indictment added, that this produced an unspeak- 



1U 262.J tfttE T4?T LER. 293 

able confusion in the company; for that the ladies, who before 
had pressed together for a place at the upper end of the table, 
immediately crowded with the same disorder towards the end 
that was quite opposite ; that Mrs. Frontly had the insolence to 
clap herself down at the very lowest place of the table ; that the 
Widow Partlett seated herself on the right-hand of Mrs. Frontly, 
alledging for her excuse, that no ceremony was to be used at a 
round table ; that Mrs. Fidget and Mrs. Fescue disputed above 
half an hour for the same chair, and that the latter would not 
give up the cause till it was decided by the parish register, which 
happened to be kept hard by. The indictment further said, that 
the rest of the company who sat down, did it with a reserve to 
their right, which they were at liberty to assert on another occa- 
sion ; and that Mrs. Mary Pippe, an old maid, was placed by 
the unanimous vote of the whole company at the upper end of 
the table, from whence she had the confusion to behold several 
mothers of families among her inferiors. The criminal alledged 
in his defence, that what he had done, was to raise mirth, and 
avoid ceremony, and that the ladies did not complain of his rude- 
ness till the next morning, having eaten up what he had provided 
for them with great readiness and alacrity. The censor frowning 
upon him, told him, that he ought not to discover so much levity 
in matters of a serious nature, and (upon the jury's bringing him 
in guilty) sentenced him to treat the whole assembly of ladies 
over again, and to take care that he did it with the decorum 
which was due to persons of their quality. , 

Rebecca Shapely, spinster, was indicted by Mrs. Sarah 
Smack, for speaking many words reflecting upon her reputation, 
and the heels of her silk slippers, which the prisoner had mali- 
ciously suggested to be two inches higher than they really were 
The prosecutor urged, as an aggravation of her guilt, that the 
prisoner was herself guilty of the same kind of forgery which she 



294 THE TATLER. [No. 262. 

had laid to the prosecutor's charge, for that she the said Rebecca 
Shapely did always wear a pair of steel bodice, and a false rump. 
The censor ordered the slippers to be produced in open court, 
where the heels were adjudged to be of the statutable size. He 
then ordered the grand jury to search the criminal, who, after 
some time spent therein, acquitted her of the bodice, but found 
her guilty of the rump ; upon which she received sentence as is 
usual in such cases. 

William Trippitt, Esq., of the Middle-Temple, brought his 
action against the Lady Elizabeth Prudely, for having refused 
him her hand as he offered to lead her to her coach from the 
opera. The plaintiff set forth, that he had entered himself into 
the list of those volunteers who officiate every night behind the 
boxes as gentlemen ushers of the play-house : that he had been at 
a considerable charge in white gloves, periwigs, and snuff-boxes, 
in order to qualify himself for that employment, and in hopes of 
making his fortune by it. The council for the defendant replied, 
that the plaintiff had given out that he was within a month of 
wedding their client, and that she had refused her hand to him in 
ceremony, lest he should interpret it as a promise that she would 
give it in marriage. As soon as their pleadings on both sides 
were finished, the censor ordered the plaintiff to be cashiered 
from his office of gentleman-usher to the play-house, since it was 
too plain that he had undertaken it with an ill design ; and at the 
same time ordered the defendant either to marry the said plain- 
tiff, or to pay him half-a-crown for the new pair of gloves and 
coach-hire that he was at the expenee of in her service. 

The Lady Townly brought an action of debt against Mrs. Flam- 
beau, for that Mrs. Flambeau had not been to see the said Lady 
Townly, and wish her joy, since her marriage with Sir Ralph, not- 
withstanding she the said Lady Townly had paid Mrs. Flambeau 
a visit upon her first coming to town. It was urged in the behalf 



No. 262.] THE TATLER. £95 

of the defendant, that the plaintiff had never given her any regular 
notice of her being in town ; that the visit she alledged had been 
made on a Monday, which she knew was a day on which Mrs. 
Flambeau was always abroad, having set aside that only day in 
the week to mind the affairs of her family ; that the servant who 
inquired whether she was at home, did not give the visiting knock ; 
that it was not between the hours of five and eight in the evening ; 
that there were no candles lighted up ; that it was not on Mrs. 
Flambeau's day ; and in short, that there was not one of the es- 
sential points observed that constitute a visit. She further 
proved by her porter's book, which was produced in court, that 
she had paid the Lady Townly a visit on the twenty-fourth day 
of March, just before her leaving the town, in the year 1709-10, 
for which she was still creditor to the said Lady Townly. To 
this the plaintiff only replied, that she was now only under covert, 
and not liable to any debts contracted when she was a single 
woman. Mr. Bickerstaffe finding the cause to be very intricate, 
and that several points of honour were likely to arise in it, he 
deferred giving judgment upon it till the next session day, at 
which time he ordered the ladies on his left-hand to present to 
the court a table of all the laws relating to visits. 

Winifred Leer brought her action against Richard Sly, for 
having broken a marriage contract, and wedded another woman, 
after he had engaged himself to marry the said Winifred Leer. 
She alledged, that he had ogled her twice at an opera, thrice in 
St. James's church, and once at Powel's puppet-show, at which 
time he promised her marriage by a side-glance, as her friend 
could testify that sat by her. Mr. Bickerstaffe finding that the 
defendant had made no further overture of love or marriage, but 
by looks and ocular engagement ; yet at the same time considering 
how very apt such impudent seducers are to lead the ladies' hearts 
astray, ordered the criminal to stand upon the stage in the Hay 



296 THE TATLER. [No. 26& 

Market, between each act of the next opera, theie to be exposed 
to public view as a false ogler. 

Upon the rising of the court, Mr. Bicker staffe having taken 
one of these counterfeits in the very fact, as he was ogling a lady 
of the grand jury, ordered him to be seized, and prosecuted upon 
the statute of ogling. He likewise directed the clerk of the court 
to draw up an edict against these common cheats, that make wo- 
men believe they are distracted for them by staring them out of 
countenance, and often blast a lady's reputation whom they never 
spoke to, by saucy looks and distant familiarities. 

Sir Richard Steele assisted in this paper. T. 



No. 265. TUESDAY, DECEMBER 19, 1710. 

Arbiter hie igitur factus de lite jocosa.— Oyid. Met. 

Continuation of the Journal of the Court of Honour, Sft. 

As soon as the court was sat, the ladies of the bench presented, 
according to order, a table of all the laws now in force, relating 
to visits and visiting days, methodically digested under their re- 
spective heads, which the Censor ordered to be laid upon the 
table, and afterwards proceeded upon the business of the day. 

Henry Heedless, Esq. was indicted by Colonel Touchy, of 
her majesty's trained bands, upon an action of assault and battery; 
for that he the said Mr. Heedlesss, having espied a feather upon 
the shoulder of the said colonel, struck it eff gently with the end 
of a walking staff, value three-pence. It appeared, that the 
prosecutor did not think himself injured till a few days after the 
aforesaid blow was given him ; but that having ruminated with 
himself for several days, and conferred upon it with other officers 
of the militia, he concluded, that he had in effect been cudgelled 



No. 265.] THE TATLER. 297 

by Mr. Heedless, and that he ought to resent it Accordingly. 
The counsel for the prosecutor alledged, that the shoilder was the 
tenderest part in a man of honour ; that it had a natural antipa- 
thy to a stick, and that every touch of it, with any thing made 
in the fashion of a cane, was to be interpreted as a wound in that 
part, and a violation of the person's honour who received it. Mr. 
Heedless replied, that what he had done was out of kindness to 
the prosecutor, as not thinking it proper for him to appear at the 
head of the trained-bands with a feather upon his shoulder ; and 
further added, that the stick he had made use of on this occasion 
was so very small, that the prosecutor could not have felt it, 
had he broken it on his shoulders. The Censor hereupon direct- 
ed the jury to examine into the nature of the staff, for that a 
great deal would depend upon that particular. Upon which he 
explained to them the different degrees of offence that might be 
given by the touch of crab-tree from that of cane, and by the 
touch of cane from that of a plain hazel stick. The jury, aftei 
a short perusal of the staff, declared their opinion by the mouth 
of their foreman, that the substance of the staff was British 
oak. The censor then observing that there was some dust on the 
skirts of the criminal's coat, ordered the prosecutor to beat it off 
with his aforesaid oaken plant ; l And thus, (said the censor,) I 
shall decide this cause by the law of retaliation : if Mr. Heedless 
did the colonel a good office, the colonel will, by this means, re- 
turn it in kind ; but if Mr. Heedless should at any time boast 
that he had cudgelled the colonel, or laid his staff over his 
shoulders, the colonel might boast in his turn, that he has 
brushed Mr. Heedless's jacket, or (to use the phrase of an in- 
genious author,) that he has rubbed him down with an oaken 
towel.' 

Benjamin Busy, of London, merchant, was indicted by Jas- 
per Tattle, Esq. for having pulled out his watch and looked upon 
vol. iv.— -13* 



298 THE TATLEE. [No. 265. 

it thrice, while the said Esquire Tattle was giving him an account 
of the funeral of the said Esquire Tattle's first wife. The prisoner 
alleged in his defence, that he was going to buy stocks at the 
time when he met the prosecutor ; and that, during the story of 
the prosecutor, the said stocks rose above two per cent, to the 
great detriment of the prisoner. The prisoner further brought 
several witnesses, that the said Jasper Tattle, Esq. was a most 
notorious story-teller ; that before he met the prisoner, he had 
hindered one of the prisoner's acquaintance from the pursuit of 
his lawful business, with the account of his second marriage ; and 
that he had detained another by the button of his coat that very 
morning, till he had heard several witty sayings and contrivances 
of the prosecutor's eldest son, who was a boy of about five years of 
age. Upon the whole matter, Mr. Bickerstaffe dismissed the ac- 
cusation as frivolous, and sentenced the prosecutor to pay damages 
to the prisoner for what the prisoner had lost by giving him so 
long and patient an hearing. He further reprimanded the prose- 
cutor very severely, and told him, that if he proceeded in his 
usual manner to interrupt the business of mankind, he would set a 
fine upon him for every quarter of an hour's impertinence, and re- 
gulate the said fine according as the time of the person so injured 
should appear to be more or less precious. 

Sir Paul Swash, Kt. was indicted by Peter Double, gent, for 
not returning the bow which he received of the said Peter 
Double, on Wednesday the sixth instant, at the playhouse in 
the Haymarket. The prisoner denied the receipt of any such 
bow, and alledged in his defence, that the prosecutor would often- 
times look full in his face, but that when he bowed to the said 
prosecutor, he would take no notice of it, or bow to somebody 
else that sat quite on the other side of him. He likewise al- 
ledged, that several ladies had complained of the prosecutor, who, 
softer ogling them a quarter of an hour, upon their making a mrt- 



No. 265.] THE TATLER. 299 

sey to him, would not return the civility of a bow. The Censor 
observing several glances of the prosecutor's eye, and perceiving 
that when he talked to the court, he looked upon the jury, found 
reason to suspect that there was a wrong cast in his sight, which 
upon examination proved true. The Censor therefore ordered the 
prisoner (that he might not produce any more confusions in pub- 
lic assemblies) never to bow to any body whom he did not at the 
same time call to by his name. 

Oliver Bluff, and Benjamin Browbeat, were indicted for going 
to fight a duel since the erection of the Court of Honour. It 
appeared, that they were both taken up in the street as they 
passed by the court, in their way to the fields behind Montague 
House. The criminals would answer nothing for themselves, but 
that they were going to execute a challenge which had been made 
above a week before the Court of Honour was erected. The 
Censor finding some reasons to suspect, (by the sturdiness of 
their behaviour) that they were not so very brave as they would 
have the court believe them, ordered them both to be searched 
by the grand jury, who found a breast-plate upon the one, and 
two quires of paper upon the other. The breast-plate was im- 
mediately ordered to be hung upon a peg over Mr. Bickerstaffe's 
tribunal, and the paper to be laid upon the table for the use of 
his clerk. He then ordered the criminals to button up their 
bosoms, and, if they pleased, proceed to their duel. Upon which 
they both went very quietly out of the court, and retired to their 
respective lodgings. 

The court then adjourned till after the holidays. 

Kopia vera. 

Charles Lillie. 

Sir Richard Steele assisted in this paper.* T. 

* When Mr. Addison (whose invention, in matters of humour, was » 



300 THE TATLER. L No 26<7 

No. 2d7. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23, 1710. 

Qui geims humanum ingenio superavit, et omnas 
Kestinxit Stellas, exortus uti setberius sol. Lttcb, 

From my own Apartment, December 22. 

I have heard, that it is a rule among the conventuals of seve- 
ral orders in the Romish church, to shut themselves up at a cer- 
tain time of the year, not only from the world in general, but 
from the members of their own fraternity, and to pass away seve- 
ral days by themselves in settling accounts between their Maker 
and their own souls, in cancelling unrepented crimes, and renew- 
ing their contracts of obedience for the future. Such stated 
times for particular acts of devotion, or the exercise of certain 
religious duties, have been enjoined in all civil governments, 
whatever deity they worshipped, or whatever religion they pro- 
fessed. That which may be done at all times is often totally neg 
lected and forgotten, unless fixed and determined to some time 
more than another ; and therefore, though several duties may be 
suitable to every day of our lives, they are most likely to be 
performed, if some days are more particularly set apart for the 
practice of them. Our church has accordingly instituted seve- 
ral seasons of devotion, when time, custom, prescription, and (if 
I may so say) the fashion itself, call upon a man to be serious 
and attentive to the great end of his being. 

I have hinted in some former papers, that the greatest and 
wisest of men in all ages and countries, particularly in Rome and 

exhaustible) had started a good hint, his facetious coadjutor was never 
satisfied, till he had run it down. For the general character of theTatlens, 
on the court of honour, see the note on No. 256. Yet on the whole, ft 
must be said, that, if Sir Richard had any considerable hand in these 
papers, he has acquitted himself in them better than usual. 

[It is hardly necessary to repeat what has been already said of Hurd'a 
injustice towards Steele ; who was the originator of the Tatler and Specta 
tor, and who 'started' the happiest 'hint' of the whole, the character of 
Sir Reiser de Coverley.] — G. 



fio. 267.] THE TATLER. 301 

Greece, were renowned for their piety and virtue. It h now my 
intention to shew how those in our own nation, that have been 
unquestionably the most eminent for learning and knowledge, 
were likewise the most eminent for their adherence to the reli- 
gion of their country. 

I might produce very shining examples from among the cler- 
gy ; but because priestcraft is the common cry of every cavilling 
empty scribbler, I shall show, that all the laymen who have ex- 
erted a more than ordinary genius in their writings, and were 
the glory of their times, were men whose hopes were filled with 
immortality, and the prospect of future rewards, and men who 
lived in a dutiful submission to all the doctrines of revealed 
religion. 

I shall in this paper only instance Sir Francis Bacon, a man, 
who, for the greatness of genius, and compass of knowledge, did 
honour to his age and country : I could almost say, to human 
nature itself. He possessed at once all those extraordinary tal- 
ents which were divided amongst the greatest authors of antiquity. 
He had the sound, distinct, comprehensive knowledge of Aristo- 
tle, with all the beautiful lights, graces, and embellishments of 
Cicero. One does not know which to admire most in his writ- 
ings, the strength of reason, force of style, or brightness of im- 
agination. 

This author has remarked, in several parts of his works, that 
a thorough insight into philosophy makes a good believer, and 
that a smattering in it naturally produces such a race of despi- 
cable infidels as the little profligate writers of the present age, 
whom (I must confess) I have always accused to myself, not so 
much for their want of faith as their want of learning. 

I was infinitely pleased to find, among the works of this ex. 
traordinary man, a prayer of his own composing, which, for the 
elevatioi of thought, and greatness of expression, seems rathe/ 



302 THE TATLER [No. 267 

the devotion of an angel than of a man. His principal fault 
seems to have been the excess of that virtue which covers a mal- 
titude of faults. This betrayed him to so great an indulgence 
towards his servants, who made a corrupt use of it, that it 
stripped him of all those riches and honours which a long series 
of merits had heaped upon him. But in this prayer, at the same 
time that we find him prostrating himself before the great mer- 
cy-seat, and humbled under afflictions which at that time lay 
heavy upon him ; we see him supported by the sense of his in 
tegrity, his zeal, his devotion, and his love to mankind, which 
give him a much higher figure in the minds of thinking men, 
than that greatness had done from which he was fallen. I shall 
beg leave to write down the prayer itself, with the title to it, as 
it was found among his lordship's papers, written in his own 
hand ; not being able to furnish my reader with an entertainment 
more suitable to this solemn time. 

A Prayer or Psalm made by my Lord Bacon, Chancellor of 
England. 

" Most gracious Lord God, my merciful Father ; from my 
youth up, my Creator, my Redeemer, my Comforter. Thou, O 
Lord, soundest and searchest the depths and secrets of all hearts ; 
thou acknowledgest the upright of heart ; thou judgest the hypo- 
crite; thou ponderest men's thoughts and doings as in a balance ; 
thou measurest their intentions as with a line ; vanity and 
crooked ways cannot be hid from Thee. 

" Remember, Lord ! how thy servant hath walked before 
thee ; remember what I have first sought, and what hath been 
principal in my intentions. I have loved thy assemblies, I have 
mourned for the divisions of thy church, I have delighted in the 
brightness of thy sanctuary. This vine, which thy right hand 



No. 267.] THE TATLER. 303 

hath planted in this nation, I have ever prayed unto thee, that it 
might have the first and the latter rain, and that it might stretch 
her branches to the seas, and to the floods. The state and bread 
of the poor and oppressed have been precious in mine eyes ; I 
have hated all cruelty and hardness of heart ; I have (though in 
a despised weed) procured the good of all men. If any have been 
my enemies, I thought not of them, neither hath the sun almost 
set upon my displeasure ; but I have been as a dove, free from 
superfluity of maliciousness. Thy creatures have been my books, 
but thy scriptures much more. I have sought thee in the courts, 
fields, and gardens, but I have found thee in thy temples. 

" Thousands have been my sins, and ten thousands my trans- 
gressions, but thy sanctifications have remained with me, and my 
heart (through thy grace) hath been an unquenched coal upon 
thine altar. 

" Lord, my strength ! I have since my youth met with 
thee in all my ways, by thy fatherly compassions, by thy comfort- 
able chastisements, and by thy most visible Providence. As 
thy favours have increased upon me, so have thy corrections ; so 
as thou hast been always near me, Lord ! And ever as my 
worldly blessings were exalted, so secret darts from thee have 
pierced me ; and when I have ascended before men, I have de- 
scended in humiliation before thee. And now when I thought 
most of peace and honour, thy hand is heavy upon me, and hath 
humbled me according to thy former loving kindness, keeping 
me still in thy fatherly school, not as a bastard, but as a child. 
Just are thy judgments upon me for my sins, which are more in 
number than the sands of the sea, but have no proportion to thy 
mercies ; for what are the sands of the sea ? Earth, heavens, 
and all these, are nothing to thy mercies. Besides my innumer 
able sins, I confess before thee, that I am debtor to thee for the 
gracious talent of thy gifts and graces, which I have neither put 



304 THE TATLEl. [No. 267. 

into a napkin, nor put it (as I ought) to exchangers, where it 
might have made best profit, but mis-spent it in things for which 
I was least fit : so I may truly say, my soul hath been a stranger 
in the course of my pilgrimage. Be merciful unto me, Lord, 
for my Saviour's sake, and receive me unto thy bosom, or guide 
me in thy ways." 



THE GUARDIAN, 

BT NESTOR IRONSIDE ESQ. 



INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 

The Guardian, which in order of date should follow the Spectator, was 
Degun March 12, 1713, and continued to the first of October. Addison's 
first contribution appeared in May, from which time h? seems to have ta- 
ken the same active interest in it which he had done in the Tatler and 
Spectator. Of the one hundred and seventy-five numbers fifty-three are 
from his pen. In this work, too, Steele has the meit'; of the original con- 
ception, though the happy thought of the " Lion's mouth " was Addison's, 
whose papers were distinguished, in the original edition, by a hand. — G. 



THE GUARDIAN* 



No. 67. THURSDAY, MAY 28, 1713. 



- Ne fortS pudori 



Sit tibi musa lyrse solers, et cantor Apollo. — Hob. 

It has been remarked, by curious observers, that poets ire 
generally long-lived, and run beyond b the usual age of man, if 
not cut off by some accident or excess, as Anacreon, in the midst 
of a very merry old age, was choked with a grape-stone. The 
same redundancy of spirits, that produces the poetical flame, 
keeps up the vital warmth, and administers uncommon fuel to 
life. I question not but several instances will occur to my read- 
er's memory, from Homer down to Mr. Dry den. I shall only 
take notice of two who have excelled in lyrics, the one an an- 
cient, and the other a modern. The first gained an immortal 
reputation by celebrating several jockeys in the Olympic games ; 
the last has signalized himself on the same occasion, by the ode 
that begins with—' To horse, brave boys, to Newmarket, to 

* The part which Mr. Addison took in the Guardian, seems to have 
been accidental, and owing to the desire he had of serving poor D'Urfey: 
for his first appearance is on that occasion, at No. 67, though, when he had 
once broken through his reserve, for this good purpose, we, afterwards, 
find his hand very frequently in it. 

b Run beyond, i. e. Their lives run beyond: so that the substantive ia 
understood to be contained in the adjective, long-lived. This way of 
speaking is very incorrect. It should be, — and out-last the usual age of 
man, — that is — the potts out-last. 



308 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 67. 

horse.' My reader will, by this time, know that the two poets 
I have mentioned, are Pindar and Mr. D'Urfey. 1 The former 
of these is, long since, laid in his urn, after having, many years 
together, endeared himself to all Greece, by his tuneful compo- 
sitions. Our countryman is still living, and in a blooming old 
age, that still promises many musical productions ; for, if I am 
not mistaken, our British swan will sing to the last. The best 
judges, who have perused his last song on the Moderate Man, do 
not discover any decay in his parts, but think it deserves a place 
among the works with which he obliged the world in his more 
early years. 

I am led into this subject, by a visit which I lately received 
from my good old friend and contemporary. As we both flour- 
ished together in King Charles the second's reign, we diverted 
ourselves with the remembrance of several particulars that passed 
in the world before the greatest part of my readers were born, 
and could not but smile to think how insensibly we were grown 
into a couple of venerable old gentlemen. Tom observed to me, 
that after having written more odes than Horace, and about four 
times as many comedies as Terence, he was reduced to great dif- 
ficulties, by the importunities of a set of men, who, of late years, 
had furnished him with the accommodations of life, and would 
not, as we say, be paid with a song. In order to extricate a my 
old friend, I immediately sent for the three directors of the play- 
house, and desired them that they would, in their turn, do a 
good office for a man, who, in Shakespear's phrase, had often filled 

1 Thomas D'Urfey, author of numberless plays, all of which are for- 
gotten; but more successful as a writer of songs and catches, although 
they also have shared the fate of his more elaborate productions. He is 
satirized in the Tatler, Nos. 1, 11, <fec, though always befriended by Steele, 
who paid his funeral expenses. — G. 

• Extricate is not used absolutely : he should have said, to extricate mj 
old friend out of his difficulties. 



No- 67.] THE GUARDIAN. 309 

their mouths, I mean with pleasantry and popular conceits. 
They very generously listened to my proposal, and agreed to act 
the Plotting Sisters, (a very taking play of my old friend's com- 
posing) on the 15th of the next month, for the benefit of the au- 
thor. 

My kindness to the agreeable Mr. D'Urfey will be imperfect, 
if. after having engaged the players in his favour, I do not get 
the town to come into it. I must, therefore, heartily recommend 
to all the young ladies, my disciples, the case of my old friend, 
who has often made their grandmothers merry, and whose son- 
nets have perhaps lulled asleep many a present toast, when she 
lay in her cradle. 

I have already prevailed upon my Lady Lizard ! to be at the 
house in one of the front boxes, and design, if I am in town, to 
lead her in myself, at the head of her daughters. The gentle- 
man I am speaking of, has laid obligations on so many of his 
countrymen, that I hope they will think this but a just return to 
the good service of a veteran poet. 

I myself remember King Charles the Second leaning on 
Tom D'Urfey's shoulder more than once, and humming over a 
song with him. It is certain that monarch was not a little sup- 
ported by, ' Joy to great Caesar,' which gave the whigs such a 
blow as they were not able to recover that whole reign. My 
friend afterwards attacked popery with the same success, having 
exposed Bellarmine and Porto-Carrero more than once in short 
satirical compositions, which have been in every body's mouth. 
He has made use of Italian tunes and sonnatas for promoting 
the protestant interest, and turned a considerable part of the 
pope's music against himself. In short, he has obliged the court 
with political sonnets, the country with dialogues and pastorals, 
the city with descriptions of a lord-mayor's feast, not to mentior. 
1 Y. Guardian, No. 1.— G. 



310 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 67 

his little ode upon Stool-ball, with many others of the like na- 
ture. 

Should the very individuals he has celebrated make their ap- 
pearance together, they would be sufficient to fill the playhouse. 
Pretty Peg of Windsor, Gilian of Croydon, with Dolly and 
Molly, and Tommy and Johnny, with many others to be met 
with in the musical miscellanies, entitled ' Pills to purge Melan- 
choly,' would make a good benefit night. 

As my friend, after the manner of the old lyrics, accompanies 
his works with his own voice, he has been the delight of the 
most polite companies and conversations, from the beginning of 
King Charles the Second's reign to our present times. Many 
an honest gentleman has got a reputation in his country, by pre 
tending to have been in company with Tom D'Urfey. 

I might here mention several other merits in my friend ; as 
his enriching our language with a multitude of rhymes, and 
bringing words together, that, without his good offices, would 
never have been acquainted with one another, so long as it had 
been a tongue. But I must not omit that my old friend angles 
for a trout the best of any man in England. May flies come in 
late this season, or I myself should, before now, have had a trout 
of his hooking. 

After what I have said, and much more that I might say, on 
this subject, I question not but the world will think that my old 
friend ought not to pass the remainder of his life in a cage like 
a singing bird, but enjoy all that Pindaric liberty which is suita- 
ble to a man of his genius. He has made the world merry, and 
T hope they will make him easy so long as he stays among us. 
This I will take upon me to say, they cannot do a kindness to a 
mor diverting companion, or a more cheerful, honest, and good- 
natured man." 

* This exquisite paper is above all praise. It> apparently, gavt Mr. 



No. 71.] THE GUARDIAN. 331 



No. 71. TUESDAY, JUNE 2. 

Quale portentum neque militaris 
Daunia in latis alit esculetis, 
Nee Jubae tellus generat, leonum 

Arida nutrix. — Hoe. 

I question not but my country customers will be lurprised 
to hear me complain that this town is, of late years, very much 
infested with lions ; and will, perhaps, look upon it as a strange 
piece of news, when I assure them, that there are many of these 
beasts of prey who walk our streets, in broad day-light, beating 
about from coffee-house to coffee-house, and seeking whom they 
may devour. 

To unriddle this paradox, I must acquaint my rural reader, 
that we polite men of the town give the name of a lion to any 
one that is a great man's spy. And, whereas, I cannot discharge 
my office of Guardian, without setting a mark on such a noxious 
animal, and cautioning my wards against him, I design this whole 
paper as an essay upon the political lion. 

It has cost me a great deal of time to discover the reason of 
this appellation, but after many disquisitions and conjectures on 
so obscure a subject, I find there are two accounts of it more 
satisfactory than the rest. In the republic of Venice, which has 
been always the mother of politics, there are, near the Doge's 
palace, several large figures of lions, curiously wrought in marble, 
with mouths gaping in a most enormous manner. Those who 
have a mind to give the state any private intelligence of what 
passes in the city, put their hands into the mouth of one of these 
lions, and convey into it a paper of such private informations as 
any way regard the interest or safety of the commonwealth. By 

Pope the hint of his ironical compliment to Dennis ; which, indeed, i? 
finely written, but has not I think, altogether, the grace and unft rceu 
jrieasantry of his original. 



312 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 1L 

this means, all the secrets of state come out of the lion's mouth. 
The informer is concealed, it is the lion that tells every thing. 
In short, there is not a mismanagement in office, or a murmur 
in conversation, which the lion does not acquaint the government 
with. For this reason, say the learned, a spy is very properly 
distinguished by the name of lion. 

I must confess, this etymology is plausible enough, and I did, for 
gome time, acquiesce in it, till about a year or two ago, I met with 
a little manuscript, which sets this whole matter in a clear light. 
In the reign of Queen Elizabeth, says my author, the renowned 
Walsingham had many spies in his service, from whom the gov- 
ernment received great advantage. The most eminent among 
them was the statesman's barber, whose surname was Lion. 
This fellow had an admirable knack of fishing out the secrets of 
his customers, as they were under his hands. He would rub and 
lather a man's head, until he had got out every thing that was 
in it. He had a certain snap in his fingers, and volubility in his 
tongue, that would engage a man to talk with him, whether he 
would or no. By this means, he became an inexhaustible fund 
of private intelligence, and so signalized himself in the capacity 
of a spy, that from his time a master-spy goes under the name 
of a lion. 

Walsingham had a most excellent penetration, and never at- 
tempted to turn any man into a lion, whom he did not see highly 
qualified for it, when he was in his human condition. Indeed, 
the speculative men of those times say of him, that, he would 
now and then play them off, and expose them a little unmercifully; 
but that, in my opinion, seems only good policy, for otherwise 
they might set up for men again, when they thought fit, and de- 
sert his service. But, however, though in that very corrupt age 
he made use of these animals, he had a great esteem for true 
men, apd always exerted the highest generosity in offering them 



No. 71.] THE GUARDIAN. 313 

more, without asking terms of them, and doing more for them, 
out of mere respect for their talents, though against him, than 
they could expect from any other minister, whom they had served 
never so conspicuously. This made Raleigh (who professed him- 
self his opponent) say, one day, to a friend, ' Pox take this 
Walsingham, he baffles every body, he will not so much as let a 
man hate him in private.' True it is, that by the wanderings, 
roarings, and lurkings of his lions, he knew the way to every 
man breathing, who had not a contempt for the world itself : he 
had lions rampant whom he used for the service of the church, 
and couchant who were to lie down for the Queen. They were 
so much at command, that the couchant would act as rampant, 
and the rampant as couchant, without being the least out of 
countenance, and all this within four and twenty hours. Wal- 
singham had the pleasantest life in the world, for, by the force of 
his power and intelligence, he saw men as they really were, and 
not as the world thought of them ; all this was principally brought 
about by feeding his lions well, or keeping them hungry, accord- 
ing to their different constitutions. 

Having given this short, but necessary account of this states- 
man and his barber, who, like the tailor in Shakespear's Pyramus 
and Thisbe, was a man made as other men are, notwithstanding 
he was a nominal lion, I shall proceed to the description of this 
strange species of creatures. Ever since the wise Walsingham 
was secretary in this nation, our statesmen are said to have en- 
couraged the breed among us, as very well knowing, that a lion, 
in our British arms, is one of the supporters of the crown, and 
that it is impossible for a government, in which there are such a 
variety of factions and intrigues, to subsist without this necessary 
animal. 

A Hon, or master-spy, has several jack-calls under him, 
who are his retailers of intelligence, and bring him in materials 
vol. iv. — 14 



314 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 1l 

for his report ; his chief haunt is a coffee-house, and as his voice 
is exceeding strong, it aggravates the sound of every thing it 
repeats. 

As the lion generally thirsts after blood, and is of a fierce 
and cruel nature, there are no secrets which he hunts after with 
more delight, than those that cut off heads, hang, draw, and 
quarter, or end in the ruin of the person who becomes his prey. 
If he gets the wind of any word or action that may do a man 
good, it is not for his purpose, he quits the chase, and falls into 
a more agreeable scent. 

He discovers a wonderful sagacity in seeking after his prey. 
He couches and frisks about in a thousand sportful motions, to 
draw it within his reach, and has a particular way of imitating 
the sound of the creature whom he would ensnare ; an artifice to 
be met with in no beast of prey, except the hyaena, and the poli- 
tical lion. 

You seldom see a cluster of newsmongers without a lion in the 
midst of them. He never misses taking his stand within ear- shot 
of one of those little ambitious men who set up for orators, in 
places of public resort. If there is a whispering hole, or any 
public-spirited corner in a coffee-house, you never fail of seeing 
a lion couched upon his elbow in some part of the neighbour- 
hood. 

A lion is particularly addicted to the perusal of every loose 
paper that lies in his way. He appears more than ordinary at- 
tentive* to what he reads, while he listens to those who are about 
him. He takes up the Postman, and snuffs the candle, that he 

a More than ordinary attentive. He uses the adjective ordinary, instead 
of the adverb ordinarily, because the accent falling on or, tliat is, the fifth 
syllable from the last, this word is scarcely to he pronounced; and in fact, 
when we do make use of it, we pronounce with a stuttering rapidity, as 
if it were written ordinarily, though even then the double i in r\ly sounds 
ill Perhaps the sentence is elliptical, and equivalent to- — more attentive 
than is ordinary. On the whole, I think, he had done better to say, more 
than commonly attentive. 



NO. 96.] THE GUARDIAN. 315 

may hear the better by it. I have seen a lion pore upon a single 
paragraph in an old gazette for two hours together, if his neigh- 
bours have been talking all that while. 

Having given a full description of this monster, for the bene- 
fit of such innocent persons as may fall into his walks, I taall 
apply a word or two to the lion himself, whom I would desire to 
consider, that he is a creature hated both by God and man, and 
regarded with the utmost contempt, even by such as make use 
of him. Hangmen and executioners are necessary in a state, 
and so may the animal I have been here mentioning ; but how 
despicable is the wretch that takes on him so vile an employ- 
ment ? there is scarce a being that would not suffer by a com- 
parison with him, except that being only who acts the same kind 
of part, and is both the tempter and accuser of mankind. 

2V. B. Mr. Ironside has, 1 within five weeks last past, muz- 
zled three lions, gorged five, and killed one. On Monday next, 
the skin of the dead one will be hung up, in terrorem, at Button's 
coffee-house, 2 over against Tom's in Covent-Garden. 



No. 96. WEDNESDAY, JULY l.» 

Cancti adsint. meritaeque expectent prsemia palmae.— Virq. 

There is no maxim in politics more indisputable, than that a 
nation should have many honours in reserve for those who do 

i Nestor Ironside. The name assumed by Steele as editor of the 
Guardian. — G\ 

3 Button had been a servant of Lady Warwick, and afterwards set up 
a coffee-house, which was patronized by Addison and the wits of hi/i 

party — G. 

•This :>aper is well worthy of a careful consideration.— G. 



316 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 96. 

national services. This raises emulation, cherishes public merit, 
and inspires every one with an ambition which promotes the good 
of his country. The less expensive these honours are to the pub- 
lic, the more still do they turn to its advantage. 

The Romans abounded with these little honorary rewards, 
that, without conferring wealth or riches, gave only place and 
distinction to the person who received them. An oaken garland 
to be worn on festivals and public ceremonies, was the glorious 
recompence of one who had covered a citizen in battle. A soldier 
would not only venture his life for a mural crown, but think the 
most hazardous enterprise sufficiently repaid by so noble a dona- 
tion. 

But among all honorary rewards which are neither dangerous 
nor detrimental to the donor, I remember none so remarkable as 
the titles which are bestowed by the Emperor of China. These 
are never given to any subject, says Monsieur le Conte, till the 
subject is dead. If he has pleased his emperor to the last, he is 
called in all public memorials by the title which the emperor con- 
fers on him after his death, and his children take their rank ac- 
cordingly. This keeps the ambitious subject in a perpetual de- 
pendance, making him always vigilant and active, and in every 
thing conformable to the will of his sovereign. 

There are no honorary rewards among us, which are more es- 
teemed by the person who receives them, and are cheaper to the 
prince, than the giving of medals. But there is something in the 
modern manner of celebrating a great action in medals, which 
makes such a reward much less valuable than it was among the 
Romans. There is generally but one coin stamped upon the oc- 
sassion, which is made a present to the person who is celebrated 
)n it. By this means, his whole fame is in his own custody. 

The applause that is bestowed upon him is too much limited and 
confined. He is in possession of an honour which the world, per 



No - 96.] THE GUARDIAN. 317 

hapa, knows nothing of. He may be a great man in Lis own fam 
ily ; his wife and children may see the monument of an exploit, 
which the public in a little time is a stranger to. The Romans 
took a quite different method in this particular. Their medals 
were their current money. When an action deserved to be re- 
corded on a coin, it was stamped, perhaps, upon an hundred thou- 
sand pieces of money, like our shillings, or halfpence, which were 
issued out of the mint, and became current. This method pub- 
lished every noble action - to advantage, and in a short space of 
time spread it through the whole Roman empire. The Romans 
were so careful to preserve the memory of great events upon their 
coins, that when any particular piece of money grew very scarce, 
it was often re-coined by a succeeding emperor, many years after 
the death of the emperor to whose honour it was first struck. 

A friend of mine" drew up a project of this kind during the 
late ministry, which would then have been put in execution, had it 
not been too busy a time for thoughts of that nature. As this pro- 
ject has been very much talked of by the gentleman above-men- 
tioned to men of the greatest genius, as well as quality, I am in- 
formed there is now a design on foot for executing the proposal 
which was then made, and that we shall have several farthings 
and halfpence charged on the reverse with many of the glorious 
particulars of her Majesty's reign. This is one of those arts of 
peace, which may very well deserve to be cultivated, and which 
may be of great use to posterity. 

As I have in my possession the copy of the paper above-men- 
tioned, which was delivered to the late Lord Treasurer, I shall 
here give the public a sight of it. For I do not question, but 

a The writer speaks in the person of the Guardian. But if we compare 
the third dialogue on Medals, with this paper, we shall, perhaps, have rea- 
to conclude, that the Guardian's friend was Mr. Addison. [Saw however, 
to have been Swift. — G.] 



318 THJJ GUARDIAN. [No. 96 

that the curious part of my readers will be very well pleased tc 
see so much matter, and so many useful hints upon this subject, 
laid together in so clear and concise a manner. 

The English have not been so careful as other polite nations, 
to preserve the memory of their great actions and events on 
medals. Their subjects are few, their mottos and devices mean, 
and the coins themselves not numerous enough to spread among 
the people, or descend to posterity. 

The French have outdone us in these particulars, and, by the 
establishment of a society for the invention of proper inscriptions 
and designs, have the whole history of their present king in a re^ 
gular series of medals. 

They have failed, as well as the English, in coining so small 
a number of each kind, and those of such costly metals, that each 
species may be lost in a few ages, and is at present no where to 
be met with but in the cabinets of the curious. 

The ancient Romans took the only effectual method to dis- 
perse and preserve their medals, by making them their current 
money. 

Every thing glorious or useful, as well in peace as war, gave 
occasion to a different coin. Not only an expedition, victory, or 
triumph, but the exercise of a solemn devotion, the remission of 
a duty or tax, a new temple, sea-port, or high-way, were trans- 
mitted to posterity after this manner. 

The greatest variety of devices are on their copper money ; 
which have most of the designs that are to be met with on the 
gold and silver, and several peculiar to that metal only. By 
this means they were dispersed into the remotest corners of the 
empire, came into the possession of the poor as well as rich, and 
were in no danger of perishing in the hands of those that might 
have melted down coins of a more valuable metal. 



tfo- 97.] THE GUARDIAf. 319 

Add to all this, that the designs were invented by men of 
genius, and executed by a decree of senate. 
It is therefore proposed, 

I. That the English farthings and halfpence be re-coined upon 
the union of the two nations. 

II. That they bear devices and inscriptions alluding to all 
the most remarkable parts of her Majesty's reign. 

III. That there be a society established for the finding out 
of proper subjects, inscriptions, and devices. 

IV. That no subject, inscription, or device be stamped with- 
out the approbation of this society, nor, if it be thought proper, 
without the authority of privy-council. 

By this means, medals that are, at present, only a dead trea- 
sure, or mere curiosities, will be of use in the ordinary commerce 
of life, and, at the same time, perpetuate the glories of her Ma- 
jesty's reign, reward the labours of her greatest subjects, keep 
alive in the people a gratitude for public services, and excite the 
emulation of posterity. To these generous purposes nothing can 
so much contribute as medals of this kind, which are of undoubt- 
ed authority, of necessary use and observation, not perishable by 
time, nor confined to any certain place ; properties not to be 
found in books, statues, pictures, buildings, or any other monu 
ments of illustrious actions. 



No. 97. THURSDAY, JULY 2. 

Miserum est post omnia perdere naulum.— Jirv. 

" SIR, 

" I was left a thousand pounds by an uncle, and being a man, 
to my thinking, very likely to get a rich widow, I laid aside all 



320 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 97 

thoughts of making my fortune any other -way, and without loss 
of time made my applications to one who had buried her husband 
about a week before. By the help of some of her she friends, 
who were my relations, I got into her company when she would 
see no man besides myself and her lawyer, who is a little, rivel- 
led, spindle-shanked gentleman, and married to boot, so that I 
had no reason to fear him. Upon my first seeing her, she said 
in conversation within my hearing, that she thought a pale com- 
plexion the most agreeable either in man or woman : now, you 
must know, sir, my face is as white as chalk. This gave me some 
encouragement, so that to mend the matter, I bought a fine flaxen 
long wig that cost me thirty guineas, and found an opportunity 
of seeing her in it the next day. She then let drop some expres- 
sions about an agate snuff-box. I immediately took the hint and 
bought one, being unwilling to omit any thing that might make 
me desirable in her eyes. T was betrayed after the same manner 
into a brocade waistcoat, a swordknot, a pair of silver-fringed 
gloves, and a diamond ring. But whether out of fickleness, or a 
design upon me, I cannot tell ; but I found by her discourse, 
that what she liked one day she disliked another : so that in six 
months space I was forced to equip myself above a dozen times. 
As I told you before, I took her hints at a distance, for I could 
never find an opportunity of talking with her directly to the point 
All this time, however, I was allowed the utmost familiarities 
with her lap-dog, and have played with it above an hour together, 
without receiving the least reprimand, and had many other marks 
of favour shown me, which I thought amounted to a promise. If 
she chanced to drop her fan, she received it from my hands with 
great civility. If she wanted any thing, I reached it for her. I 
have filled her tea-pot above an hundred times, and have after- 
wards received a dish of it from her own hands. Now, sir, do 
you judge if after such encouragements she was not obliged to 



No. 97.] THE GUARDIAN. 321 

marry me. I forgot to tell you that I kept a chair by the. week, 
on purpose to carry me thither and back again Not to trouble 
you with a long letter, in the space of about a twelvemonth I 
have run out of my whole thousand pound upon her, having laid 
out the last fifty in a new suit of clothes, in which I was resolved 
to receive her final answer, which amounted to this, that she was 
engaged to another; that she never dreamt I had any such thing 
in my head as marriage ; and that she thought I had frequented 
her house only because I loved to be in company with my rela- 
tions. This, you know, sir, is using a man like a fool, and so I 
told her ; but the worst of it is, that I have spent my fortune to 
no purpose. All, therefore, that I desire of you is, to tell me 
whether, upon exhibiting the several particulars which I have 
here related to you, I may not sue her for damages in a court of 
justice. Your advice in this particular will very much oblige 
" Your most humble admirer, 

"Simon Softly." 

Before I answer Mr. Softly's request, I find myself under a 
necessity of discussing two nice points : first of all, what it is, in 
cases of this nature, that amounts to an encouragement; and, se- 
condly, what it is that amounts to a promise. Each of which 
subjects requires more time to examine than I am at present 
master of. Besides, I would have my friend Simon consider, 
whether he has any council that would undertake his cause in 
forma pauperis, he having unluckily disabled himself, by his own 
account of the matter, from prosecuting his suit any other way. 

In answer, however, to Mr. Softly's request, I shall acquaint 
him with a method made use of by a young fellow in King Charles 
the Second's reign, whom I shall here call Silvio, who had long 
made love, with much artifice and intrigue, to a rich widow, whose 
true name I shall conceal under that of Zelinda. Silvio, who 
vol. iv. — 14* 



322 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 97. 

was much more smitten with her fortune than ht/r person, finding 
a twelvemonth's application unsuccessful, was resolved to make 
a saving bargain of it, and since he could not get the widow's 
estate into his possession, to recover at least what he had laid 
out of his own in the pursuit of it. 

In order to this he presented her with a bill of costs ; having 
particularized in it the several expences he had been at in his 
long perplexed amour. Zelinda was so pleased with the humour 
of the fellow, and his frank way of dealing, that, upon the peru- 
sal of the bill, she sent him a purse of fifteen hundred guineas, by 
the right application of which, the lover, in less than a year, got 
a woman of greater fortune than her he had missed. The several 
articles in the bill of costs I pretty well remember, though I 
have forgotten the particular sum charged to each article. 

Laid out in supernumerary full-bottom wigs. 

Fiddles for a serenade, with a speaking trumpet. 

Gilt paper in letters, and billet-doux with perfumed wax. 

A ream of sonnets and love verses, purchased at different 
times of Mr. Triplett at a crown a sheet. 

To Zelinda two sticks of May cherries. 

Last summer, at several times, a bushel of peaches. 

Three porters whom I planted about her to watch her mo- 
tions. 

The first, who stood sentry near her door. 

The second, who had his stand at the stables where her coach 
was put up. 

The third, who kept watch at the corner of the street where 
Ned Courtall lives, who has since married her. 

Two additional porters planted over her during the whole 
month of May. 

Five conjurors kept in pay all last winter. 



No. 98.] THE GUARDIAN, 323 

Spy-money to John Trott her footman, and Mrs. Sarah 
Wheedle her companion. 

A new Conningsmark blade to fight Ned Courtall. 

To Zelinda's woman (Mrs. Abigal) an Indian fan, a dozen 
pair of white kid gloves, a piece of Flanders lace, and fifteen 
guineas in dry money. 

Secret service- money to Betty at the ring. 

Ditto, to Mrs. Tape the mantua-maker. 

Loss of time. 



No. 98. FRIDAY, JULY 3. 

In sese reditu 

Vdbg. 

The first who undertook to instruct the world in single 
papers, was Isaac Bickerstaffe of famous memory. 1 A man near- 
ly related to the family of the Ironsides We have often smoked 
a pipe together, for I was so much in his books, that at his de- 
cease he left me a silver standish, a pair of spectacles, and the 
lamp by which he used to write his lucubrations. 

The venerable Isaac was succeeded by a gentleman of the 
same family, very memorable for the shortness of his face and of 
his speeches. 2 This ingenious author published his thoughts, and 
held his tongue, with great applause, for two years together. 

I Nestor Ironside have now for some time undertaken to fill 
the place of these my two renowned kinsmen and predecessors. 
For it is observed of every branch of our family, that we have 
all of us a wonderful inclination to give good advice, though it is 

1 V. Introductory remarks to the Tatler. — G. 
3 The Spectator.— G. 



324 THE GUARDIAN. [N°- 98 

remarked of some of us, a that we are apt on this occasion rather 
to give than take. 

However it be, I cannot bnt observe with some secret pride, 
that this way of writing diurnal papers has not succeeded for any 
space of time in the hands of any persons who are not of our 
line. I believe I speak within compass, when I affirm that above 
a hundred different authors have endeavoured after our family- 
way of writing : some of which have been writers in other kinds 
of the greatest eminence in the kingdom ; but I do not know 
how it has happened, they have none of them hit upon the art. b 
Their projects have always dropt after a few unsuccessful essays. 
It puts me in mind of a story which was lately told me e by a 
pleasant friend of mine, who has a very fine hand on the violin. 
His maid servant seeing his instrument lying upon the table, and 
being sensible there was music in it, if she knew how to fetch it 
out, drew the bow over every part of the strings, and at last told 

a Some of us. Humorously glancing at the quickness, with which 
himself and his friend Steele, had resented the advice as one may say, of 
the Examiner. 

b This, the reader sees, is in the old style of — quasitam meritis sume super- 
biam : but the boast is so true, that it stands uncontradicted to our days ; 
when the list of competitors, here given in, has been prodigiously increas- 
ed, and is still increasing ; and yet, this way of Writing is as much the 
family-secret as ever. But how should it be otherwise? He, who invents 
a species of polite composition, must needs be inimitable, unless he have 
the disadvantage of living in a barbarous age, or unless his rivals be very 
much his superiors in ability ; neither of which exceptions can be pleaded 
in the present case. For, otherwise, the very consideration of originality 
decides the question in favour of the inventor ; of whom, besides, it may 
be presumed, that he had a genius singularly turned to the cultivation of 
what he first conceived. 

e This modern story is, in fact, the old Lesbian fable of Lucian, con- 
cerning the lyre of Orpheus ; but finely varied and improved. — Mr. Ad- 
dison, I have observed from many passages in his works, was a great read- 
er and admirer of Lucian ; and very naturally so : because, of all the an- 
cients, he is the only one that had any considerable tincture of that elegant 
humour which our countryman so highly relished, and so perfectly pos- 
sessed. In other respects, the writings of that ingenious libertine m:st 
have been peculiarly offensive to our author, and are, indeed, the very re- 
verse of his own. 



No. 98.] THE GUARDIAN. 325 

her master she had tried the fiddle all over, but could not for her 
heart find whereabout the tune lay. 

But though the whole burden of such a paper is only fit to 
rest on the shoulders of a Bickerstaffe or an Ironside ; there are 
several who can acquit themselves of a single day's labour in it 
with suitable abilities. These are gentlemen whom I have often 
invited to this trial of wit, and who have several of them acquit- 
ted themselves to my private emolument, as well as to their own 
reputation. My paper among the republic of letters is the Ulysses 
his bow, a in which every man of wit or learning may try his 
strength. One who does not care to write a book without being 
sure of his abilities, may see by this means if his parts and' 
talents are to the public taste. 

This I take to be of great advantage to men of the best sense, 
who are always diffident of their private judgment, till it receives 
a sanction from the public. Provoco ad populum, I appeal to 
the people, was the usual saying of a very excellent dramatic 
poet, when he had any disputes with particular persons about the 
justness and regularity of his productions. It is but a melan 
choly comfort for an author to be satisfied that he has written uj 
to the rules of art, when he finds he has no admirers in the world 
besides himself. Common modesty should, on this occasion, 
make a man suspect his own judgment, and that he misapplies 
the rules b of. his art, when he finds himself singular in the ap- 
plause which he bestows upon his own writings. 

The public is always even with an author who has not a just 

ft " Ulysses his bow." — See what Dr. Wallis has said against this use 
of his. — I)e Adjectivis, c. 5. 

b Suspect his own judgment, and that he misapplies the rules. This wav 
of mating a substantive, and a whole sentence, depend on the same verb, is 
not accurate, because it does violence to the mind, in turning the atten- 
tion suddenly two different ways. He might have said- — "suspect his okm 
judgment, and conclude that he misapplies," — or, what I think better - 
c suspect his judgment, a7id the application of his own rules." 



32'1 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 98 

deference for them. The contempt is reciprocal. I laugh at 
every cue, said an old cynic, who laughs at me. Bo you so ? 
replied the philosopher ; then let me tell you, you live the mer 
riest life of any man in Athens. 

It is not, therefore, the least use of this my paper, that it 
gives a timorous writer, and such is every good one, an oppor- 
tunity of putting his abilities to the proof, and of sounding the 
public before he launches into it. For this reason I look upon 
my paper as a kind of nursery for authors, and question not but 
some, who have made a good figure here will hereafter flourish 
under their own names in more long and elaborate works. 

After having thus far enlarged upon this particular, I have 
one favour to beg of the candid and courteous reader, that when 
he meets with any thing in this paper which may appear a little 
dull or heavy,* (though I hope this will not be often) he will be- 
lieve it is the work of some other person, and not of Nestor 
Ironside. 

I have, I know not how, been drawn into tattle of myself, 
more majorum, almost the length of a whole Guardian. I shall, 
therefore, fill up the remaining part of it with what still relates 
to my own person, and my correspondents. Now I would have 
them all know, that on the twentieth instant it is my intention to 
erect a lion's head in imitation of those I have described in Ve- 
nice, through which all the private intelligence of that common- 
wealth is said to pass. This head is to open a most wide and vo- 
racious mouth, which shall take in such letters and papers as are 
conveyed to me by my correspondents, it being my resolution to 
have a particular regard to all such matters as come to my hands 
through the mouth of the lion. There will be under it a box, of 

* Pleasantly said ; but with a secret reference, I make no doubt, tc 
certain papers in this collection by his coadjutor, though bearing Ihe name 
of Nestor Ironside. 



No- 99-] THE GUARDIAN. 327 

which the key will be in my own custody, to receive such papers 
as are dropped into it. Whatever the lion swallows I shall di- 
gest for the use of the public. This head requires some time to 
finish, the workman being resolved to give it several masterly 
touches, and to represent it as ravenous as possible. ! It will be 
set up in Button's coffee-house in Covent-garden, who is directed 
to shew the way to the lion's-head, and to instruct any young 
author how to convey his works into the mouth of it with safety 
and secrecy." 



No. 99. SATURDAY, JULY 4. 

Justurn, et tertacem propositi virum 
Non civium ardor prava jubentium, 
Non vultus instantis tyranni 
Mente quatit solida, neque Auster 
Dux inquieti turbidus Adriae, 
Nee fulminantis magna Jovis manus : 
Si fractus illabatur orbis, 
Impavidum ferient ruinae. — Hoe. 

There is no virtue so truly great and godlike as justice. 
Most of the other virtues are the virtues of created beings, or ao- 

2 Thi8 head was preserved at the Shakspere Tavern till 1804, in Covent 

Garden; when the owner failing, it was sold for 111. 10s. Under it were 

two detached lines of Martial : 

Servantur niagnis isti eervicibus ungues; 
Non nisi dilecta pascitur ille fera. — G. 

* This whole paper is excellent. But the project of the lion, so finely 
introduced by No. 71, is above all to be admired. This highly humorous 
idea came very seasonably to the relief of Nestor Ironside, who was almost, 
as we may say, at his wit's end, when his friend started this new object for 
him. Ladj' Lizard and her tea-table was grown a stale joke ; and if the 
lion had not roared in the nick of time, the public wa9 in imminent danger 
of falling asleep ; and then the Guardian had shared the fate of so many 
other projects, which are said to have dropped after a few unsuccessful essays. 
— -The reader will own the obligation he has to the lion when he feels, aa 
he goes along, how much the humour of this paper, henceforth, depends 
upon him. 



328 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 99 

• 

commodated to our nature as we are men. Justice is that which 
is practised by God himself, and to be practised in its perfection 
by none but him. Omniscience and Omnipotence are requisite 
for the full exertion of it. The one to discover every degree of 
uprightness or iniquity in thoughts, words, and actions. The 
other, to measure out and impart suitable rewards and punish- 
ments. 

As tc be perfectly just is an attribute in the divine nature, to 
be so to the utmost of our abilities is the glory of a man. Such 
an one who has the public administration in his hands, acts like 
the representative of his Maker, in recompensing the virtuous, 
and punishing the offender. By the extirpating of a criminal, he 
averts the judgments of heaven, when ready to fall upon an impi- 
ous people ; or, as my friend Cato expresses it much better in a 
sentiment conformable to his character, 

When by just vengeance impious mortals perish, 
The gods behold their punishment with pleasure, 
And lay th' uplifted thunder-bolt aside. 

When a nation once loses its regard to justice ; B when they 
do not look upon it as something venerable, holy, and inviolable ; 
when any of them dare presume to lessen, affront, or terrify those 
who have the distribution of it in their hands: when a judge is 
capable of being influenced by any thing but law, or a cause may be 
recommended by any thing that is foreign to its own merits, we may 
venture to pronounce that such a nation is hastening to its ruin. 

For this reason the best law that has ever past in our days, 
is that which continues our judges in their posts during their 
good behaviour, without leaving them to the mercy of such who 
in ill times might, by an undue influence over them, trouble and 

a Though this paper be drawn in very general terms, it might possibly 
glance at certain partialities, then felt or apprehended in the judicature of 
the nation, when the rage of party so much prevailed. 



No. 99.] THE GUARDIAN. 329 

pervert the course of justice. I dare say the extraordinary per- 
son a who is now posted b in the chief station of the law, would 
have been the same had that act never past ; but it is a great 
satisfaction to all honest men, that while we see the greatest or- 
nament of the profession in its highest post, we are sure he can- 
not hurt himself by that assiduous, regular, and impartial admin- 
istration of justice, for which he is so universally celebrated by 
the whole kingdom. Such men are to be reckoned among the 
greatest national blessings, and should have that honour paid 
them whilst they are yet living, which will not fail to crown their 
memory when dead. 

I always rejoice when I see a tribunal filled with a man of an 
upright and inflexible temper, who, in the execution of his coun- 
try's laws can overcome all private fear, resentment, solicitation, 
and even pity itself. Whatever passion enters into a sentence or 
decision, so far will there be in it a tincture of injustice. In 
short, justice discards party, friendship, kindred, and is therefore 
always represented as blind, that we may suppose her thoughts 
are wholly intent on the equity of a cause, without being diverted 
or prejudiced by objects foreign to it. • 

I shall conclude this paper with a Persian story, which is 
very suitable to my present subject. It will not a little please 
the reader, if he has the same taste of it which I myself have. 

As one of the sultans lay encamped on the plains of Avala, a 
certain great man of the army entered by force into a peasant's 
house, and finding his wife very handsome, turned the good man 
out of his dwelling, and went to bed to her. The peasant com- 
plained the next morning to the sultan, and desired redress ; but 
was not able to point out the criminal. The emperc<r, who was 

a Sir Thomas Parkei, Lord Chief Justice of the Queen's Banch, after- 
wards Earl of Macclesfield, and Lord Chancellor. — K 
• Posted — see the note in No. 48 of the Freeholder 



330 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 99. 

very much incensed at the injury done to the poor man, told him 
that probably the offender might give his wife another visit, and 
if he did, commanded him immediately to repair to his tent and 
acquaint him with it. Accordingly, within two or three days, the 
officer entered again the peasant's house, and turned the owner 
out of doors ; who thereupon applied himself to the imperial tent, 
as he was ordered. The sultan went in person, with his guards, 
to the poor man's house, where he arrived about midnight. As 
the attendants carried each of them a flambeau in their hands, 
the sultan, after having ordered all the lights to be put out, gave 
the word to enter the house, find out the criminal, and put him 
to death. This was immediately executed, and the corps laid 
out upon the floor by the emperor's command. He then bid 
every one light his flambeau, and stand about the dead body. 
The sultan approaching it looked upon the face, and immediately 
fell upon his knees in prayer. Upon his rising up he ordered the 
peasant to set before him whatever food he had in the house. 
The peasant brought out a great deal of coarse fare, of which the 
emperor eat very heartily. The peasant seeing him in good hu- 
mour, presumed t<5 ask of him, why he had ordered the flambeaux 
to be put out before he had commanded the adulterer should be 
slain ? Why, upon their being lighted again, he looked upon the 
face of the dead body, and fell down by it in prayer ? and why, 
after this, he had ordered meat to be set before him, of which he 
now eat so heartily ? The sultan, being willing to gratify the cu- 
riosity of his host, answered him in this manner. " Upon hearing 
the greatness of the offence which had been committed by one of 
the army, I had reason to think it might have been one of my 
own sons, for who else would have been so audacious and presum- 
ing? I gave orders, therefore, for the lights to be extinguished, 
that I might not be led astray, by partiality or compassion, from 
ioing justice on the criminal. Upon the lighting of ths flam 



No. 100.] THE CUAEDIAN. 331 

beaux a second time, I looked upon the face of the dead person, 
and, to my unspeakable joy, found that it was not my son. It 
was for this reason, that I immediately fell upon my knees, and 
gave thanks to God. As for my eating heartily of the food you 
have set before me, you will cease to wonder at it, when you know 
that the great anxiety of mind I have been in, upon this occasion, 
since the first complaints you brought me, has hindered my eat- 
ing any thing from that time till this very moment." 



No. 100. MONDAY, JULY 6. 

Hoc vos prsecipue, niveae, decet hoc ubi vidi, 
Oscula ferre humero, qua patet, uaque libet. — Ovid. 

There is a certain female ornament, by some called a tucker, 
and by others the neck-piece, being a slip of fine linen or muslin 
that used to run in a small kind of ruffle round the uppermost 
verge of the women's stays, and by that means covered a great 
part of the shoulders and bosom. Having thus given a definition 
or rather description of the tucker, I must take notice, that our 
ladies have of late thrown aside this fig-leaf, and exposed in its 
primitive nakedness, that gentle swelling of the breast, which it 
was used to conceal. What their design by it is, they themselves 
best know. 

I observed this as I was sitting the other day by a famous she 
visitant at my Lady Lizard's, when accidentally, as I was looking 
upon her face, letting my sight fall into her bosom, I was surpris- 
ed with beauties which I never before discovered, and do not 
know where my eye would have run, if I had not immediately 
checked it. The lady herself could not forbear blushing, when 
she observed, by my looks, that she had made her neck too beau- 



332 THE GUARDIAN. L^°- l0 ° 

tiful and glaring an object, even for a man of my character and 
gravity. I could scarce forbear making use of my hand to cover 
so unseemly a sight. 

If we survey the pictures of our great grandmothers in Queen 
Elizabeth's time, we see them clothed down to the very wrists, 
and up to the very chin. The hands and face were the only sam- 
ples they gave of their beautiful persons. The following age of 
females made larger discoveries of their complexion. They first 
of all tucked up their garments to the elbow, and notwithstanding 
the tenderness of the sex, were content, for the information of 
mankind, to expose their arms to the coldness of the air, and in- 
juries of the weather. This artifice hath succeeded to their wishes, 
and betrayed many to their arms, who might have escaped them, 
had they been still coDcealed. 

About the same time, the ladies, considering that the neck 
was a very modest part in a human body, they freed it from those 
yokes, I mean those monstrous linen ruffs, in which the simplici- 
ty of their grandmothers had inclosed it. In proportion as the 
age refined, the dress still sunk lower, so that when we now say a 
woman has a handsome neck, we reckon into it many of the adja- 
cent parts. The disuse of the tucker has still enlarged it, inso- 
much that the neck of a fine woman at present takes in almost 
half the body. 

Since the female neck thus grows upon us, and the ladies seem 
disposed to discover themselves to us more and more, I would 
fain have them tell us once for all, how far they intend to go, and 
whether they have yet determined among themselves where to 
make a stop. 

For my own part, their necks, as they call them, are no more 
than busts of alabaster in my eye. I can look upon 

The yielding marble of a snowy breast, 



No. 10(1.] THE GUARDIAN. 333 

with as much coldness as this line of Mr. "Waller represented in 
the object itself. But my fair readers ought to consider, that all 
their beholders are not Nestors. Every man is not sufficiently 
qualified with age and philosophy, to be an indifferent spectator 
of such allurements. The eyes of young men are curious and pen- 
etrating, their imaginations of a roving nature, and their passions 
under no discipline or restraint. I am in pain for a woman of 
rank, when I see her thus exposing herself to the regards of every 
impudent staring fellow. How can she expect that her quality 
can defend her, when she gives such provocation ? I could not 
but observe, last winter, that upon the disuse of the neck-piece 
(the ladies will pardon me if it is not the fashionable term of art) 
the whole tribe of oglers gave their eyes a new determination, 
and stared the fair sex in the neck rather than in the face. To 
prevent these saucy familiar glances. I would entreat my gentle 
readers to sew on their tuckers again, to retrieve the modesty of 
their characters, and not to imitate the nakedness, but the inno- 
cence of their mother Eve. 

What most troubles and indeed surprises me in this particu- 
lar, I have observed," that the leaders in this fashion were most 
of them married women. What their design can be in making 
themselves bare, I cannot possibly imagine. Nobody exposes 
wares that are appropriated. When the bird is taken, the snare 
ought to be removed. It was a remarkable circumstance in the 
institution of the severe Lycurgus. As that great lawgiver knew 
that the wealth and strength of a republic consisted in the 
multitude of citizens, he did all he could to encourage marriage : 
in order to it, he prescribed a certain loose dress for the Spartan 

a What most troubles, &c. — / have observed,] Imperfectly expressed, 
for — What most troubles, (fee. is this, viz. I have observed. This negli- 
gent way of speaking was affected by the author, to intimate his concern 
in entering on this part of his subject as if he hardly durst speak out, or, 
as if the portentous object so occupied him, that he was not at liberty t» 
mind his expression. 



334 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 100. 

maids, in wliich there were several artificial rents and openings, 
that, upon putting themselves in motion, discovered several limbs 
of the body to the beholders. Such were the baits and tempta- 
tions made use of, by that wise lawgiver, to incline the young 
men of his age to marriage But when the maid was once sped, 
she was not suffered to tantalize the male part of the common- 
wealth : her garments were closed up, and stitched together 
with the greatest care imaginable. The shape of her limbs, and 
complexion of her body, had gained their ends, and were ever af- 
ter to be concealed from the notice of the public. 

I shall conclude this discourse of the tucker, with a moral, 
which I have taught upon all occasions, and shall still continue 
to inculcate into my female readers ; namely, that nothing bestows 
so much beauty on a woman, as modesty. This is a maxim laid 
down by Ovid himself, the greatest master in the art of love. He 
observes upon it, that Venus pleases most when she appears 
(semi-reducta) in a figure withdrawing herself from the eye of 
the beholder. It is very probable, he had in his thoughts the 
statue which we see in the Venus de Medicis, where she is repre- 
sented in such a shy retiring posture, and covers her bosom with 
one of her hands. In short, modesty gives the maid greater 
beauty than even the bloom of youth, it bestows on the wife 
the dignity of a matron, and reinstates the widow in her virgin- 
ity 



No. 101.] THE GUARDIAN. 335 

No. 101. TUESDAY. JULY 7. 

Tros Tjriusve mihi nullo disorimine habetur. — Vieg 

This being the great day of thanksgiving for the peace, 1 shall 
present my reader with a couple of letters that are the fruits of 
it. They are written by a gentleman who has taken this oppor- 
tunity to see France, and has given his friends in England a gen- 
eral account of what he has there met with, in several epistles. 1 
Those which follow, were put into my hands with liberty to mak? 
them public, and I question not but my reader will think him 
self obliged to me for so doing. 

" SIR, 

" Since I had the happiness to see you last, I have encoun 
tered as many misfortunes as a knight-errant. I had a fall into 
the water at Calais, and since that, several bruises upon land, 
lame post-horses by day, and hard beds at night, with many other 
dismal adventures. 

Quorum animus meminisse horret luctuque refugit. 

" My arrival at Paris was at first no less uncomfortable, where 
I could not see a face nor hear a word that I ever met with be- 
fore ; so that my most agreeable companions have been statues 
and pictures, which are many of them very extraordinary, but 
what particularly recommends them to me is, that they do not 
speak French, and have a very good quality, rarely to be met with 
in this country, of not being too talkative. 

" I am settled for some time at Paris. Since my being here. 
I have made the tour of all the king's palaces, which has been, 
I think, the pleasantest part of my life. I could not believe it 
was in the power of art to furnish out such a multitude of noble 
scenes as I there met with, or that so many delightful prospects 
1 V. 2 J v«> . Letters and Introduction to the Letters. — G. 



336 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 101. 

could lie within the compass of a man's imagination. There is 
every thing done, that can be expected from a prince who removes 
mountains, turns the course of rivers, raises woods in a day's 
time, and plants a village or town on such a particular spot of 
ground, only for the bettering of a view. . One would wonder to 
see how many tricks he has made the water play for his diversion. 
It turns itself into pyramids, triumphal arches, glass bottles, imi- 
tates a fire-work, rises in a mist, or tells a story out of iEsop. 

" T do not believe, as good a poet as you are, that you can 
make finer landscapes than those about the king's houses, or with 
all your descriptions, raise a more magnificent palace than Ver- 
sailles. I am, however, so singular as to prefer Fontainbleau to 
all the rest. It is situated among rocks and woods, that give 
you a fine variety of salvage prospects. The king has humoured 
the genius of the place, and only made use of so much art as is 
necessary to help and regulate nature, without reforming her too 
much. The cascades seem to break through the clefts and cracks 
of rocks that are covered over with moss, and look as if they 
were piled upon one another by accident. There is an artificial 
wildness in the meadows, walks, and canals; and the garden, 
instead of a wall, is fenced on the lower end by a natural mound 
of rock work, that strikes the eye very agreeably. For my part, 
I think there is something more charming in these rude heaps of 
stone, than in so many statues ; and would as soon see a river 
winding through woods and meadows, as when it is tossed up in 
so many whimsical figures at Versailles. To pass from works of 
nature to those of art. In my opinion, the pleasantest part of 
Versailles is the gallery. Every one sees on each side of it some- 
thing that will be sure to please him. For one of them com- 
mands a view of the finest garden in the world, and the other is 
wainscoted with looking-glass. The history of the present king, 
till the year 16 is painted on the roof by Le Brun, so that His 



^O. 101.] THE GUARDIAN. 337 

Majesty lias actions enough by him, to furnish ano iher gallery 
much longer than the present. 

" The painter has represented his most Christian majesty un- 
der the figure of Jupiter, throwing thunderbolts all about the 
ceiling, and striking terror into the Danube and Rhine, that lie 
astonished and blasted with lightning, a little above the cornice. 

" But what makes all these shows the more agreeable is, the 
great kindness and affability that is shown to strangers. If the 
French do not excel the English in all the arts of humanity, they 
do at least in the outward expressions of it. And upon this, as 
well as other accounts, though I believe the English are a much 
wiser nation, the French are undoubtedly much more happy. 
Their old men in particular are, I believe, the most agreeable in 
the world. An antediluvian could not have more life and brisk- 
ness in him at threescore and ten : for that fire and levity which 
makes the young ones scarce conversable, when a little wast- 
ed and tempered by years, makes a very pleasant gay old age. 
Besides, this national fault of being so very talkative, looks na- 
tural and graceful in one that has grey hairs to countenance it. 
The mentioning this fault in the French, must put me in mind 
to finish my letter, lest you think me already too much infected 
by their conversation ; but I must desire you to consider, that 
travelling does in this respect, lay a little claim to the privilege 
of old age. 

" I am, Sir," &c. 

" sir, Blots, May 15, N". S. 

" I cannot pretend to trouble you with any news from this 
place, where the only advantage I have, besides getting the lan- 
guage, is, to see the manners and temper of the people, which I 
believe may be better learnt here than in courts and greater cities, 
where artifice and disguise are more in fashion. 

VOL. IV. — 15 



338 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 101. 

" I have already seen, as I informed you in my last, all the 
king's palaces, and have now seen a great part of the country. 
I never thought there had been in the world such an excessive 
magnificence or poverty as I have met with in both together. One 
can scarce conceive the pomp that appears in every thing about 
the king ; but, at the same time, it makes half his subjects go 
barefoot. The people are, however, the happiest in the world, 
and enjoy, from the benefit of their climate, and natural constitu- 
tion, such a perpetual gladness of heart and easiness of temper, 
as even liberty and plenty cannot bestow on those of other na- 
tions. 'Tis not in the power of want or slavery to make them 
miserable. There is nothing to be met with but mirth and po- 
verty. Every one sings, laughs, and starves. Their conversa- 
tion is generally agreeable, for if they have any wit or sense, they 
are sure to show it. They never mend upon a second meeting, 
but use all the freedom and familiarity at first sight, that a long 
intimacy, or abundance of wine, can scarce draw from an English- 
man. Their women are perfect mistresses in this art of shewing 
themselves to the best advantage. They are always gay and 
sprightly, and set off the worst faces in Europe with the best airs. 
Every one knows how to give herself as charming a look and pos- 
ture as Sir Godfrey Kneller could draw her in. I cannot end 
my letter without observing, that from what I have already seen 
of the world, I cannot but set a particular mark of distinction 
upon those who abound most in the virtues of their nation, and 
least with its imperfections. When, therefore, I see the good 
sense of an Englishman in its highest perfection, without any 
mixture of the spleen, I hope you will excuse me, if I admire the 
character, and am ambitious of subscribing myself, 

'Sir, Y pur's," &c. 



No. 102.] THE GUUDIAN. 330 



No. 102. WEDNESDAY, JULY S. 

Natos ad flumina primum 

Deferimus, ssevoque gelu duraraus et undis.— Virg. 

I am always beating about in my thoughts for something that 
may turn to the benefit of my dear countrymen. The present 
season of the year having put most of them in slight summer-suits, 
has turned my speculations to a subject that concerns every one 
who is sensible of cold or heat, which I believe takes in the 
greatest part of my readers. 

There is nothing in nature more inconstant than the British 
climate, if we except the humour of its inhabitants. We have 
frequently, in one day, all the seasons of the year. I have shiv- 
ered in the dog-days, and been forced to throw off my coat in 
January. I have gone to bed in August, and rose in December 
Summer has often caught me in my Drap de Berry, and winter 
in my Doily suit. a 

I remember a very whimsical fellow b (commonly known by 
the name of Posture-master) in King Charles the Second's reign, 
who was the plague of all the tailors about town. He would 
often send for one of them to take measure of him, but would 
so contrive it, as to have a most immoderate rising in one of his 
shoulders. When the clothes were brought home, and tried upon 
him, the deformity was removed into the other shoulder. Upon 
which the tailor begged pardon for the mistake, and mended it 
as fast as he could ; but upon a third trial, found him a straight- 
shouldered man as one would desire to see, but a little unfortu- 
nate in a humped back. In short, this wandering tumour puz 
zled all the workmen about town, who found it impossible to ac- 

a Doily "was a famous draper of the day, perhaps the inventor of this 
kind of cloth.— N. 

«» Mr. Joseph Clark, commonly called the posture-maker. — K 



340 THE GUARDIAN. C^° 102 - 

commodate so changeable a customer. My reader will apply this 
to any one who would adapt a suit to a season of our English 
climate. 

After this short descant on the uncertainty of our English 
weather, I come to my moral. 

A man should take care that his body be not too soft for his 
climate ; but rather, if possible, harden and season himself be- 
yond the degree of cold wherein he lives. Daily experience 
teaches us how we may inure ourselves, by custom, to bear the 
extremities of weather without injury. The inhabitants of Nova 
Zembla go naked, without complaining of the bleakness of the 
air in which they are born, as the armies of the northern nations 
keep the field all winter. The softest of our British ladies ex- 
pose their arms and necks to the open air. which the men could 
not do without catching cold, for want of being accustomed to it. 
The whole body, by the same means, might contract the same 
firmness and temper. The Scythian, that was asked how it was 
possible for the inhabitants of his frozen climate to go naked, re- 
plied, c Because we are all over face.' Mr. Locke advises parents 
to have their children's feet washed every morning in cold water, 
which might probably prolong multitudes of lives. 

I verily believe a cold bath would be one of the most health- 
ful exercises in the world, were it made use of in the education 
of youth. It would make their bodies more than proof to the 
injuries of the air and weather. It would be something like 
what the poets tell us of Achilles, whom his mother is said to 
have dipped, when he was a child, in the river Styx. The story 
adds, that this made him invulnerable all over, excepting that 
part which the mother held in her hand during this immersion, 
which, by that means, lost the benefit of these hardening waters 
Our common practice runs in a quite contrary method. We are 
perpetuallv softening ourselves, by good fires and warm slothes. 



No. 102.] THE GUARDIAN. 341 

The air within our rooms has generally two or three more de- 
grees of heat in it than the air without doors. 

Crassus is an old lethargic valetudinarian. For these twenty 
years last past, he has been clothed in frieze of the same color, 
and of the same piece. He fancies he should catch his death in 
any other kind of manufacture, and though his avarice would in- 
cline him to wear it till it was threadbare, he dares not do it, 
lest he should take cold when the nap is off. a He could no more 
live without his frieze coat, than without his skin. It is not, in- 
deed, so properly his coat, as what the anatomists call one of 
the integuments of the body. 

How different an old man is Crassus from myself. It is, in- 
deed, the particular distinction of the Ironsides to be robust and 
hardy, to defy the cold and rain, and let the weather do its worst. 
My father lived till a hundred without a cough, and we have a 
tradition in the family, that my grandfather used to throw off 
his hat, and go open breasted, after fourscore. As for myself, 
they used to souse me over head and ears in waiix* when I was .a 
boy, so that I am now looked upon as one of *ha most case- 
hardened of the whole family of the Ironsides. In short, I 
have been so plunged in water, and inured to the co!$, that I re- 
gard myself as a piece of true-tempered Steele, b ap<l can say, 
with the above-mentioned Scythian, that I am face, or if my ene- 
mies please, forehead all over. 

a A fine comic stroke, and, I think, an original one, on this wA\ worn 
topic of avarice. 

b A quibble, so contrived &3 to introduce a handsome compliment tt 
the editor of this paper. 



342 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 108. 

No. 103. THURSDAY, JULY 9. 

Dum flam mas Jovis, et sonitus imitatur OlympL-^ViBG. 

I am considering how most of the great phenomena, or ap- 
pearances in nature, have been imitated by the art of man. 
Thunder is grown a common drug among the chymists. Light- 
ning may be bought by the pound. If a man has occasion for a 
lambent flame, you have whole sheets of it in a handful of phos- 
phor. Showers of rain are to be met with in every water- work ; 
and, we are informed, that some years ago the virtuoso's b of 
France covered a little vault with artificial snow, which they 
made to fall above an hour together, for the entertainment of his 
present majesty. 

I am led into this train of thinking, by the noble fire-work 
that was exhibited last night upon the Thames. You might 
there see a little sky filled with innumerable blazing stars and 
meteors. Nothing could be more astonishing than the pillars of 
flame, clouds of smoke, and multitudes of stars, mingled to- 
gether in such an agreeable confusion. Every rocket ended in a 
constellation, and strewed the air with such a shower of silver 
spangles, as opened and enlightened the whole scene from time 
to time. It put me in mind of the lines in Oedipus. 

Why from the bleeding womb of monstrous night 
Burst forth such myriads of abortive stars ? 

In short, the artist did his part to admiration, and was so encom- 
passed with fire and smoke, that one would have thought nothing 
but a salamander could have been safe in such a situation. 

I was in company with two or three fanciful friends during 

b The plural number of Virtuoso is Virtuosos, without a comma, which is 
the sign, of the apostrophe in the genitive case. But perhaps, as the word 
is f jreign, he had better preserved the proper termination, Virtuosi. 



No. 103.] THE GUARDIAN. 343 

this whole show. One of them being a critic, that is, a man 
who, on all occasions, is more attentive to what is wanting, than 
what is present," begun to exert his talent upon the several ob- 
jects we had before us. ' I am mightily pleased, (says he,) with 
that burning cypher. There is no matter in the world so. proper 
to write with as wildfire, as no characters can be more legible, 
than those which are read by their own light. But as for your 
cardinal virtues, I do not care for seeing them in such combusti- 
ble figures. Who can imagine Chastity with a body of fire, or 
Temperance in a flame ? Justice, indeed, may be furnished out 
of this element, as far as her sword goes, and Courage may be 
all over one continued blaze, if the artist pleases.' 

Our companion observing that we laughed at this unseason- 
able severity, let drop the critic, and proposed a subject for a 
fire-work, which he thought would be very amusing, if executed 
by so able an artist as he who was at that time entertaining us. b 
The plan he mentioned was a scene in Milton. He would have a 
large piece of machinery represent the Pandaemonium, where, 



-From the arched roof 



Pendent by subtle magic, many a row 
Of starry lamps, and blazing cressets, fed 
"With Naphtha and Asphaltus, yielded light, 
As from a sky 

This might be finely represented by several illuminations dis- 
posed in a great frame of wood, with ten thousand beautiful ex- 
halations of fire, which men versed in this art know very well 
how to raise. The evil spirits, at the same time, might very 
properly appear in vehicles of flame, and employ all the tricks 
of art to terrify and surprise the spectator. 

a This description of a critic is, I doubt, very applicable to the editor v 
who, in reading so fine a paper as this, is only on the catch for some little 
slip or inaccuracy in grammar. 

»> Thgre were two artists Col. Hopkey and Col. Boigard. — * 



344 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 108 

We were well enough pleased with this start of thought, but 
fancied there was something in it too serious, and perhaps too 
horrid, to be put in execution. 

Upon this, a friend of mine gave us an account of a fire-work, 
described, if I am not mistaken, by Strada. A prince of Italy, 
it seems, entertained his mistress with it upon a great lake. In 
the midst of this lake was a huge floating mountain made by art. 
The mountain represented iEtna, being bored through the top 
with a monstrous orifice. Upon a signal given the eruption be- 
gan. Fire and smoke, mixed with several unusual prodigies 
and figures, made their appearance for some time. On a sudden 
there was heard a most dreadful rumbling noise within the en- 
trails of the machine. After which the mountain burst, and dis- 
covered a vast cavity in that side which faced the prince and his 
court. Within this hollow was Vulcan's shop full of fire and 
clock-work. A column of blue flames issued out incessantly from 
the forge. Vulcan was employed in hammering out thunder- 
bolts, that every now and then flew up from the anvil with dread- 
ful cracks and flashes. Venus stood by him in a figure of the 
brightest fire, with numberless Cupids on all sides of her, that 
shot out vollies of burning arrows. Before her was an altar with 
hearts of fire flaming on it. I have forgot a several other par- 
ticulars no less curious, and have only mentioned these to show 
that there may be a sort of fable or design in a fire-work, which 
may give an additional beauty to those surprising objects. 

I seldom see any thing that raises wonder in me, which does 
not give my thoughts a turn that makes my heart the better for 
it. As I was lying in my bed, and ruminating on what I had 
seen, I could not forbear reflecting on the insignificancy of human 

8 The verb forgot has two participles passive — -forgot, and forgotten, 
(as many other verbs have). The ear directs veiy much in the choice of 
that we employ ; but, in general, we say forgot in the familiar style, an<3 
forgotten in the more solemn. ' 



No. 103.] THE GUARDIAN. 345 

art, when set in comparison with the designs of Providence. In 
the pursuit of this thought, I considered a comet, or in the Ian 
guage of the vulgar, a blazing-star, as a sky-rocket discharged by 
an hand that is Almighty. Many of my readers saw that in the 
year 1680, and if they are not mathematicians, will be amazed 
to hear that it travelled in a much greater degree of swiftness 
than a cannon ball, and drew after it a tail of fire that was four- 
score millions of miles in length. What an amazing thought is 
it to consider this stupendous body traversing the immensity of 
the creation with such a rapidity, and, at the same time, wheel- 
ing about in that line which the Almighty has prescribed for it ? 
that it should move in such an inconceivable fury and combus- 
tion, and, at the same time, with such an exact regularity ? 
How spacious must the universe be, that gives such bodies as 
these their full play, without suffering the least disorder or con- 
fusion by it ? What a glorious show are those beings enter- 
tained with, that can look into this great theatre of nature, and 
see myriads of such tremendous objects wandering through those 
immeasurable depths of ether, and running their appointed 
courses ? Our eyes may, hereafter, be strong enough to com- 
mand this magnificent prospect, and our understandings able to 
find out the several uses of these great parts of the universe. In 
the mean time, they are very proper objects for our imaginations 
to contemplate, that we may form more exalted notions of in 
finite wisdom and power, and learn to think humbly of ourselves, 
and of all the little works of human invention. 



vol. iv.— 15* 



346 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 104 

No. 104. FKIDAY, JULY 10. 

Quas e longinquo magis placent. — Tacit. 

On Tuesday last I published two letters written by a gentle- 
man in his travels. As they were applauded by my best readers, 
I shall this day publish two more from the same hand. 1 The 
first of them contains a matter of fact which is very curious, and 
may deserve the attention of those who are versed in our British 
antiquities. 

Blois, May 15, N. S. 

" SIR, 

" Because I am at present out of the road of news, I shall 
send you a story that was lately given me by a gentleman of this 
country, who is descended from one of the persons concerned in 
the relation, and very inquisitive to know if there be any of the 
family now in England. 

" I shall only premise to it, that this story is preserved with 
great care among the writings of this gentleman's family, and 
that it has been given to two or three of our English nobility, 
when they were in these parts, who could not return any satis- 
factory answer to the gentleman, whether there be any of that 
family now remaining in Great Britain. 

" In the reign of King John, there lived a nobleman called 
John de Sigonia, lord of that place in Tourraine. His brothers 
were Philip and Briant. Briant, when very young, was made 
one of the French king's pages, and served him in that quality 
when he was taken prisoner by the English. The king of Eng- 
land chanced to see the youth, and being much pleased with his 
person and behaviour, begged him of the king his prisoner. It 
happened, some years after this, that John, the other brother 

1 V. Introductory remarks to ' letters. — G 



$°- 104.] THE GUARDIAN. 347 

who, in the course of the war, had raised himself to a considera 
ble post in the French army, was taken prisoner by Briant, who, 
at that time, was an officer in the king of England's guards. 
Briant knew nothing of his brother, and being naturally of an 
haughty temper, treated him very insolently, and more like a 
criminal than a prisoner of war. This John resented so highly 
that he challenged him to a single combat. The challenge was 
accepted, and time and place assigned them by the king's ap- 
pointment. Both appeared on the day prefixed, and entered the 
lists completely armed, amidst a great multitude of spectators. 
Their first encounters were very furious, and the success equal 
on both sides ; till, after some toil and bloodshed, they were 
parted by the seconds, to fetch breath, and prepare themselves 
afresh for the combat. Briant, in the mean time, had cast his 
eye upon his brother's escutcheon, which he saw agree in all 
points with his own. I need not tell you, after this, with what 
joy and surprise the story ends. King Edward, who knew all 
the particulars of it, as a mark of his esteem, gave to each of 
them, by the king of France's consent, the following coat of arms, 
which I will send you in the original language, not being herald 
to blazon it in English. 

Le Roi d'Angleterre, par permission du Hoi de France, pour 
perpetuelle memoire de leurs grands faits d'armes et fidelite 
envers leurs rois, leur donna par ampliation a leurs armes en 
une croix d'argent cantonee de quatre coquilles d'or en champ 
de sable, qu'ils avoient auparavant, une endenteleuse faite en 
facons de croix de gueulle inser£e au dedans de la ditte croix 
d'argent et par le milieu d'icelle qui est participation des deux 
croix que portent les dits rois en la guerre. 

" I am afraid, by this time, you begin to wonder that I should 



348 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 104, 

send you, for news, a tale of three or four hundred years old ; 
and I dare say never thought, when you desired me to write to 
you, that I should trouble you with a story of King John, espe- 
cially at a time when there is a monarch on the French throne 
that furnishes discourse for Europe. But I confess I am the 
more fond of the relation, because it brings to mind the noble 
exploits of our own countrymen : though, at the same time, I 
must own it is not so much the vanity of an Englishman which 
puts me upon writing it, as that I have of taking any occasion to 
subscribe myself, " Sir, yours," &c. 

Blois, May 30, JST. S. 
" sm, 

" I am extremely obliged to you for your last kind letter, which 

was the only English that had been spoken to me in some months 

together, for I am at present forced to think the absence of my 

countrymen my good fortune : 

Votum in amante novum! vellem quod amatur abesset. 

This is an advantage that I could not have hoped for, had I 
stayed near the French court, though I must confess I would not 
have but seen it, because I believe it showed me some of the 
finest places and of the greatest persons in the world. One cannot 
hear a name mentioned in it that does not bring to mind a piece 
of a gazette, nor see a man that has not signalized himself in a 
battle. One would fancy one's self to be in the enchanted pala- 
ces of a romance ; one meets with so many heroes, and finds 
something so like scenes of magic in the gardens, statues, and 
water-works. I am ashamed that I am not able to make a quick- 
er progress through the French tongue, because I believe it is im- 
possible for a learner of a language to find in any nation such ad- 
vantages as in this, where every body is so very courteous and so 



No. 105.] THE GUARDIAN. 349 

very talkative. They always take care to make a noise as long 
as they are in company, and are as loud, any hour of the morning, 
as our own countrymen at midnight. By what I have seen, there 
is more mirth in the French conversation, and more wit in the 
English. You abound more in jests, but they in laughter. Their 
language is, indeed, extremely proper to tattle in, it is made up of 
so much repetition and compliment. One may know a foreigner 
by his answering only No or Yes to a question, which a French- 
man generally makes a sentence of. They have a set of ceremoni- 
ous phrases that run through all ranks and degrees among them. 
Nothing is more common than to hear a shopkeeper desiring his 
neighbour to have the goodness to tell him what is a clock, or a 
couple of coblers that are extremely glad of the honour of see- 
ing one another. 

" The face of the whole country where I now am, is at this 
season pleasant beyond imagination. I cannot but fancy the 
birds of this place, as well as the men, a great deal merrier than 
those of our own nation. I am sure the French year has got the 
start of ours more in the works of nature than in the new style. I 
have past one March in my life without being ruffled by the 
winds, and one April without being washed with rains. 

" I am, Sir, yours," &c. 



No. 105. SATURDAY, JULY 11. 
II 

Quod neque in Armeniis tigres fecere latebris: 

Perdere nee faetus ansa leaena suos. 
At tenerse faciunt, sed non impune, puellse ; 

Saepe suos utero quae necat, ipsaperit — Ovid. 

There was no part of the show on the Thanksgiving-day that 
so much pleased and affected me as the little boys and girls whe 



350 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 105 

were ranged with so much order and decency in that part of the 
Strand which reaches from the May-pole to Exeter- Change. 
Such a numerous and innocent multitude, clothed in the charity 
of their benefactors, was a spectacle pleasing both to God and man, 
and a more beautiful expression of joy and thanksgiving than could 
have been exhibited by all the pomps of a Roman triumph. 
Never did a more full and unspotted chorus of human creatures 
join together in a hymn of devotion. The care and tenderness 
which appeared in the looks of their several instructors, who 
were disposed among this little helpless people, could not forbear a 
touching every heart that had any sentiments of humanity. 

I am very sorry that her majesty did not see this assembly 
of objects so proper to excite that charity and compassion which 
she bears to all who stand in need of it, though at the same time 
I question not but her royal bounty will extend itself to them. 
A charity bestowed on the education of so many of her young 
subjects, has more merit in it than a thousand pensions to those 
of a higher fortune who are in greater stations in life. 

I have always looked on this institution of charity-schools, 
which, of late years, has so universally prevailed through the 
whole nation, as the glory of the age we live in, and the most 
proper means that can be made use of to recover it out of its 
present degeneracy and depravation of manners. It seems to 
promise us an honest and virtuous posterity : there will be few 
in the next generation who will not at least be able to write and 
read, and have not had the early tincture of religion. It is there- 
fore to be hoped that the several persons of wealth and quality, 
who made their procession through the members of these newly 
erected seminaries, will not regard them only as an empty spec- 
tacle, or the materials of a fine show, but contribute to their 

a We do not say of an abstract idea, that it forbears. It should be — 
could not but touch — or, — could not fail of touching. 



No. 105.] THE GUARDIAN. 35 i 

maintenance and increase. For my part, I can scarce forbear 
looking on the astonishing victories our arms have been crowned 
with, to be in some measure the blessings returned upon that na- 
tional charity which has been so conspicuous of late, and that 
the great successes of the last war, for which we lately offered 
up our thanks, were in some measure occasioned by the several 
objects which then stood before us. 

Since I am upon this subject, I shall mention a piece of char- 
ity which has not yet been exerted among us, and which deserves 
our attention the more, because it is practised by most of the 
nations about us. I mean a provision for foundlings, or for 
those children who, through want of such a provision, are expos- 
ed to the barbarity of cruel and unnatural parents. One does 
not know how to speak on such a subject without horror : but 
what multitudes of infants have been made away with by those 
who brought them into the world, and were afterwards either 
ashamed or unable to provide for them ! 

There is scarce an assizes where some unhappy wretch is not 
executed for the murder of a child. And how many more of 
these monsters of inhumanity may we suppose to be wholly un- 
discovered, or cleared for want of legal evidence ? not to mention 
those, who by unnatural practices, do in some measure defeat the 
intentions of Providence, and destroy their conceptions even be- 
fore they see the light. In all these the guilt is equal, though 
the punishment is not «so. But to pass by the greatness of the 
crime, (which is not to be expressed by words) if we only consid- 
er it as it robs the common-wealth of its full number of citizens, 
it certainly deserves the utmost application and wisdom of a peo- 
ple to prevent it. 

It is certain, that which generally betrays these profligate 
women into it, and overcomes the tenderness which is natural to 
them on other occasiors, is the fear of shame, or their inability 



352 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 105 

to support those whom they gave life to. I shall, therefore, 
show how this evil is prevented in other countries, as I have 
learned from those who have been conversant in the several great 
cities of Europe. 

There are at Paris, Madrid, Lisbon, Rome, and many other 
large towns, great hospitals built like our colleges. In the walls 
of these hospitals are placed machines, in the shape of large lan- 
thorns, with a little door in the side of them turned towards the 
street, and a bell hanging by them. The child is deposited in 
this lanthorn, which is immediately turned about into the inside 
of the hospital. The person who conveys the child rings the bell, 
and leaves it there, upon which the proper officer comes and receives 
it without making further inquiries. The parent or her friend, 
who leaves the child there, generally leaves a note with it, declar- 
ing whether it be yet christened, the name it should be called 
by, the particular marks upon it, and the like. 

It often happens that the parent leaves a note for the mainte- 
nance and education of the child, or takes it out after it has been 
some years in the hospital. Nay, it has been known that the 
father has afterwards owned the young foundling for his son, or 
left his estate to him. This is certain, that many are by this 
means preserved, and do signal services to their country, who, 
without such a provision, might have perished as abortives, or 
have come to an untimely end, and, perhaps, have brought upon 
their guilty parents the like destruction. • 

This I think is a subject that deserves our most serious con- 
sideration, for which reason I hope I shall not be thought imper- 
tinent in laying it before my readers. 



No. 106] THE GUARDIAN. 353 

No. 106. MONDAY, JULY 13. 

Quod latet arcana non enarrabile fibra. — Pees. 

As I was making up my Monday's provision for the public, 
I received the following letter, which being a better entertain- 
ment than any I can furnish out myself, I shall set before the 
reader, and desire him to fall on without further ceremony. 

" SIR, 

" Your two kinsmen and predecessors of immortal memory, 
were very famous for their dreams and visions, 21 and contrary to 
all other authors, never pleased their readers more than when 
they were nodding. Now it is observed, that the second-sight 
generally runs in the blood ; and, Sir, we are in hopes that you 
yourself, like the rest of your family, may at length prove a 
dreamer of dreams, and a seer of visions. In the mean while I beg 
leave to make you a present of a dream, which may serve to lull 
your readers till such time as you yourself shall think fit to 
gratify the public with any of your nocturnal discoveries. 

" You must understand, sir, I had yesterday been reading and 
ruminating upon that passage where Momus is said to have found 
fault with the make of a man, because he had not a window in his 
breast. The moral of this story is very obvious, and means no 
more than that the heart of man is so full of wiles and artifices, 
treachery and deceit, that there is no guessing at what he is from 
his speeches and outward appearances. I was immediately re- 
flecting how happy each of the sexes would be, if there was a 
window in the breast of every one that makes or receives love. 

Mr. Addison knew where his strength lay, and, with all his modesty 
could not help taking the advantage of afietitous letter to pay this just com- 
pliment to himself. His dreams and visions have more than all the grace 
and invention of Plato's. In them, at least, he was a true poet. 



354 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 106 

What protestations and perjuries would be saved 5n the one side, 
what hypocrisy and dissimulation on the other ? I am myself 
very far gone in this passion for Aurelia, a woman of an unsearch- 
able heart. I would give the world to know the secrets of it, and 
particularly whether I am really in her good graces, or, if not, 
who is the happy person. 

" I fell asleep in this agreeable reverie, when on a sudden 
methought Aurelia lay by my side. I was placed by her in the 
posture of Milton's Adam, and 

With looks of cordial love hung over her enamour'd. 

As I cast my eye upon her bosom, it appeared to be all of crys- 
tal, and so wonderfully transparent, that I saw every thought in 
her heart. The first images I discovered in it were fans, silks, 
ribbons, laces, and many other gewgaws, which lay so thick 
together, that the whole heart was nothing else but a toy-shop. 
These all faded away and vanished, when immediately I discerned 
a long train of coaches and six, equipages and liveries, that ran 
through the heart one after another in very great hurry for above 
half an hour together. After this, looking very attentively, I ob- 
served the whole space to be filled with a hand of cards, in which 
I could see distinctly three mattadors. There then followed a 
quick succession of different scenes. A play-house, a church, a 
court, a poppet-show, rose up one after another, till at last they 
all of them gave place to a pair of new shoes, which kept footing 
in the heart for a whole hour. These were driven off at last by 
a lap-dog, who was succeeded by a Guinea-pig, a squirrel, and a 
monkey. I myself, to my no small joy, brought up the rear of 
these worthy favourites. I was ravished at being so happily 
posted, and in full possession of the heart : but as I saw the 
little figure of myself simpering, and mightily pleased with its 
situation, on a sudden the heart methought gave a sigh in which 



No. 106.] THE GUARDIAN. 355 

as I found afterwards, my little representative vanished; for 
upon applying my eye I found my place taken up by an ill-bred, 
awkward puppy, with a money-bag under each arm. This gentle- 
man, however, did not keep his station long before he yielded it 
up to a wight as disagreeable as himself, with a white stick in his 
hand. These three last figures represented to me in a lively man- 
ner the conflicts in Aurelia's heart between Love, Avarice, and 
Ambition. For we jostled one another out by turns, and dis- 
puted the point for a great while. But at last to my unspeakable 
satisfaction, I saw myself entirely settled in it. I was so trans- 
ported with my success, that I could not forbear hugging my dear 
piece of crystal, when to my unspeakable mortification I awaked, 
and found my mistress metamorphosed into a pillow. 

" This is not the first time I have been thus disappointed. 

" venerable Nestor, if you have any skill in dreams, let me 
know whether I have the same place in the real heart, that I had 
in the visionary one : to tell you truly, I am perplexed to death 
between hope and fear. I was very sanguine till eleven a-clock 
this morning, when I overheard an unlucky old woman telling her 
neighbour that dreams always went by contraries. I did not, in- 
deed, before much like the crystal heart, remembering that con- 
founded simile in Valentinian, of a maid, { as cold as crystal 
never to be thaw'd.' Besides, I verily believe if I had slept a 
little longer, that awkward whelp with his money-bags would cer- 
tainly have made his second entrance. If you can tell the fair 
one's mind, it will be no small proof of your art, for I dare say it 
is more than she herself can do. Every sentence she speaks is a 
riddle, all that I can be certain of is, that I am her and 

" Your humble servant, 

" Peter Puzzle." 



356 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 107. 

No. 107. TUESDAY, JULY 14. 

tentanda via est Virg. 

I have lately entertained my reader with two or three letters 
from a traveller, and may possibly, in some of my future papers, 
oblige him with more from the same hand. The following 
one comes from a projector, which is a sort of correspondent as 
diverting as a traveller : his subject having the same grace of 
novelty to recommend it, and being equally adapted to the curi- 
osity of the reader. For my own part, I have always had a par- 
ticular fondness for a project, and may say, without vanity, that 
I have a pretty tolerable genius that way myself, I could mention 
some which I have brought to maturity, others which have mis- 
carried, and many more which I have yet by me, and are to take 
their fate in the world when I see a proper juncture. I had a 
hand in the Land-bank, 1 and was consulted with upon the refor 
mation of manners. I have had several designs upon the Thames 
and the New River, a not to mention my refinements upon lotteries 
and insurances, 11 and that never-to-be-forgotten project, which, if 
it had succeeded to my wishes, would have made gold as plentiful 
in this nation as tin or copper. If my countrymen have not 
reaped any advantages from these my designs, it was not for want 
of any good will towards them. They are obliged to me for my 
kind intentions as much as if they had taken effect. Projects are 
of a two-fold nature : the first arising from public-spirited per- 
sons, in which number I declare myself: the other proceeding 

1 Supposed to allude to a plan of Steele's for bringing fish to London. 
V. The 'Fishpool,'— in Nichols's ed. of Town Taik,' &c. 1789.— G. 

ft A. scheme for a bank to lend money on land security. 

"> Steele's 'multiplication table,' a kind of lottery decided to be illegal. 

c Supposed to be anothar allusion to Steele's scheming; for he had, 
among other things, spent ti/ne and money in search of the philosopher'i 
6tone. 



No. 107.] THE GUARD AN. 357 

from a regard to our private interest, of which nature is that in 
the following letter. 

" Sill, 

" A man of your reading knows very well that there were a 
set of men, in old Rome, called by the name of Nomenclators, 
that is, in English, men who could call every one by his name. 
When a great man stood for any public office, as that of a tri- 
bune, a consul, or a censor, he had always one of these Nomen- 
clators at his elbow, who whispered in his ear the name of every 
one he met with, and by that means enabled him to salute every 
Roman citizen by his name when he asked him for his vote. To 
come to my purpose, I have with much pains and assiduity quali- 
fied myself for a Nomenclator to this great city, and shall gladly 
enter upon my office as soon as I meet with suitable encourage- 
ment. I will let myself out by the week to any curious country 
gentleman or foreigner. If he takes me with him in a coach to 
the ring, a I will undertake to teach him, in two or three evenings, 
the names of the most celebrated persons who frequent that 
place. If he plants me by his side in the pit, I will call over to 
him, in the same manner, the whole circle of beauties that are 
disposed among the boxes, and, at the same time, point out to 
him the persons who ogle them from their respective stations. 
I need not tell you that I may be of the same use in any other 
public assembly. Nor do I only profess the teaching of names 
but of things. Upon the sight of a reigning beauty, I shall 
mention her admirers, and discover her gallantries, if they are of 
public notoriety. I shall likewise mark out every toast, the club 
in which she was elected, and the number of votes that were on 
her side. Not a woman shall be unexplained that makes a figure 
either as a maid, a wife, or a widow. The men too shall be set 

a In Hyde park, then a fashionable place of resort. — * 



?58 THE GUARDIAN. [ffo. 10? 

out in their distinguishing characters, and declared whose prop- 
erties they are. Their wit, wealth, or good humour, their per- 
sons, stations, and titles, shall be described at large. 

" I have a wife who is a Nomenclatress, and will be ready, on 
any occasion, to attend the ladies. She is of a much more com- 
municative nature than myself, and is acquainted with all the 
private history of London and Westminster, and ten miles round. 
She has fifty private amours which nobody yet knows any thing 
of but herself, and thirty clandestine, marriages that have not 
been touched by the tip of a tongue. She will wait upon any 
lady at her own lodgings, and talk by the clock after the rate of 
three guineas an hour. 

" iV. B. She is a near kinswoman of the author of the New 
Atalantis. 2 

•' I need not recommend to a man of your sagacity the useful- 
ness of this project, and do therefore beg your encouragement of 
it, which will lay a very great obligation upon 

" Your humble servant." 

After this letter from my whimsical correspondent, I shall 
publish one of a more serious nature, which deserves the utmost 
attention of the public, and in particular of such who are lovers 
of mankind. It is on no less a subject, than that of discovering 
the longitude, and deserves a much higher name than that of a 
project, if our language afforded any such term. But all I can 
say on this subject will be superfluous, when the reader sees the 
names of those persons by whom this letter is subscribed, and 
who have done me the honour to send it me. I must only take 
notice, that the first of these gentlemen is the same person who 
has lately obliged the world with that noble plan, entitled, A 
Scheme of the Solar System, with the Orbits of the Planets and 

* Mrs. A. D. Manley. — * 



Eo. 107.] THE GUARDIAN. 359 

Comets belonging thereto. Described from Dr. Hall.y's accurate 
Table of Comets, Philosoph. Transact. No. 297, founded on 
Sir Isaac Newton's wonderful discoveries, by Wm. Whiston, 
M.A. 

To Nestor Ironside, Esq. at Button's Coffee-house, near 
Covent- Garden. 

London, July 11, 1713. 
" SIR, 

" Having a discovery of considerable importance to commu- 
nicate to the public, and finding that you are pleased to concern 
yourself in any thing that tends to the common benefit of man- 
kind, we take the liberty to desire the insertion of this letter 
into your Guardian. We expect no other recommendation of it 
from you, but the allowing of it a place in so useful a paper. 
Nor do we insist on any protection from you, if what we propose 
should fall short of what we pretend to ; since any disgrace, 
which in that case must be expected, ought to lie wholly at our 
own doors, and to be entirely borne by ourselves, which we hope 
we have provided for by putting our own names to this paper. 

" 'Tis well known, sir, to yourself, and to the learned, and 
trading, and sailing world, that the great defect of the art of 
navigation is, that a ship at sea has no certain method, in either 
her eastern or western voyages, or even in her less distant sailing 
from the coasts, to know her longitude, or how much she has 
gone eastward or westward ; as it can easily be known in any 
clear day or night, how much she is gone northward or southward : 
the several methods by lunar eclipses, by those of Jupiter's 
satellites, by the appulses of the moon to fixed stars, and by the 
even motions of pendulum clocks and watches, upon how solid 
foundations soever they are built, still failing in long voyages at 
sea when they come to be practised ; and leaving the poor sailors 



360 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 107 

to the great inaccuracy of a log-line, or dead reckoning. This 
defect is so great, and so many ships have been lost by it, and 
this has been so long and so sensibly known by trading nations, 
that great rewards are said to be publicly offered for its supply. 
We are well satisfied, that the discovery we have to make as to 
this matter, is easily intelligible by all, and readily to be prac- 
tised at sea as well as at land ; that the latitude will thereby be 
likewise found at the same time ; and that with proper changes it 
may be made as universal as the world shall please ; nay, that 
the longitude and latitude may be generally hereby determined to 
a greater degree of exactness than the latitude itself is now 
usually found at sea. So that on all accounts we hope it will 
appear very worthy the public consideration. We are ready to 
disclose it to the world, if we may be assured that no other per- 
sons shall be allowed to deprive us of those rewards which the 
public shall think fit to bestow for such a discovery ; but do not 
desire actually to receive any benefit of that nature, until Sir 
Isaac Newton himself, with such other proper persons as shall be 
chosen to assist him, have given their opinion in favour of this 
discovery. If Mr. Ironside pleases so far to oblige the public 
as to communicate this proposal to the world, he will also lay a 
^reat obligation on, 

" His very humble servants, 

" Will Whiston, 
"Humphry Dittos." 



No 10S I THE GUARDIAN. 361 

No. 108. WEDNESDAY, JULY 15. 

Abjectibus juvenes patriis et montibus sequi.— Vieg. 

I do not care for burning my fingers in a quarrel, but since 
I have communicated to the world a plan, which has given offence 
to some gentlemen whom it would not be very safe to disoblige, 
T must insert the following remonstrance ; and, at the same time, 
promise those of my correspondents who have drawn this upon 
themselves, to exhibit to the public any such answer as thev shall 
think proper to make to it. 

" MR. GUARDIAN, 

" I was very much troubled to see the two letters which you 
lately published concerning the Short Club. You cannot imagine 
what airs all the little pragmatical fellows about us have given 
themselves, since the reading of those papers. Every one cocks 
and struts upon it, and pretends to over-look us who are two foot 
higher than themselves. I met with one the other day who was 
at least three inches above five foot, which you know is the stat- 
utable measure of that club. This overgrown runt has struck 
off his heels, lowered his foretop, and contracted his figure, that, 
he might be looked upon as a member of this new-erected society ; 
nay, so far did his vanity carry him, that he talked familiarly of 
Tom Tiptoe, and pretends to be an intimate acquaintance of Tim. 
Tuek. For my part, I scorn to speak any thing to the diminu- 
tion of these little creatures, and should not have minded them, 
had they been still shuffled among the crowd. Shrubs and un- 
derwoods look well enough while they grow within the shade of 
oaks and cedars, but when these pigmies pretend to draw them- 
selves out from the rest of the world, and form themselves into a 
body, H is time for us whe are men of figure, to look about us. 
VOL. iv. — 16 



362 THE GUARDIAN. [Nol05< 

If the ladies should once take a liking to such a diminutive race 
of lovers, we should, in a little time, see mankind epitomized, 
and the whole species in miniature ; daisy roots would grow a 
fashionable diet. a In order, therefore, to keep our posterity from 
dwindling, and fetch down the pride of this aspiring race of up- 
starts, we have here instituted a Tall Club. 

" As the short club consists of those who are under five toot, 
ours is to be composed of such as are above six. These we look 
upon as the two extremes and antagonists of the species ; consid- 
ering all those as neuters who fill up the middle space. When 
a man rises beyond six foot, he is an hypermeter, and may be 
admitted into the tall club. 

" We have already chosen thirty members, the most sightly 
of all her Majesty's subjects. We elected a president, as many 
of the ancients did their kings, by reason of his height, having 
only confirmed him in that station above us which nature had 
given him. He is a Scotch Highlander, and within an inch of a 
show. As for my own part, I am but a sesquipedal, having only 
six foot and a half of stature. Being the shortest member of the 
club, I am appointed secretary. If you saw us all together, you 
would take us for the sons of Anak. Our meetings are held, like 
the old Gothic parliaments, sub dio ) in open air ; but we shall 
make an interest, if we can, that we may hold our assemblies in 
Westminster Hall when it is not term-time. I must add, to the 
honour of our club, that it is one of our society who is now find- 
ing out the longitude. 5 The device of our public seal is a crane 
grasping a pigmy in his right foot. 

"I know the short club value themselves very much upon 
Mr. Distich, who may possibly play some of his Pentameters upon 
us, but if he does, he shall certainly be answered in Alexandrines. 

* Daisy roots boiled in milk, are said to check the growth of puppies »-* 
b Probably Mr. Whiston.— * 



><<> 108.] THE GUARDIAN. 363 

For we have a poet among us of a genius as exalted as his sta- 
ture, and who is very well read in Longinus's treatise concerning 
the sublimed Besides, I would have Mr. Distich consider, that 
if Horace was a short man, Musaeus, who makes such a noble 
figure in Virgil's sixth iEneid, was taller by the head and shoul- 
ders than all the people of Elizium. I shall, therefore, confront 
his lepidissimum homuncionem (a short quotation, and fit for a 
member of their club) with one that is much longer, and there- 
fore more suitable to a member of ours. 

Quos circumfusos sic est affata Sibylla, 

Musseum ante omnes : medium nam plurima turba 

Hunc habet, atque humeris extantem suspicit altis. 

To these the Sybil first her speech addressed, 

And first to him b surrounded by the rest. 

Tow'ring his height and ample was his breast. — Drtden. 

" If, after all, this society of little men proceed as they have 
begun, to magnify themselves, and lessen men of higher stature, 
we have resolved to make a detachment, some evening or other, 
that shall bring away their whole club in a pair of panniers, and 
imprison them in a cupboard which we have set apart for that 
use, till they have made a public recantation. As for the little 
bully, Tim. Tuck, if he pretends to be choleric, we shall treat 
him like his friend little Dicky, and hang him upon a peg till he 
comes to himself. I have told you our design, and let their little 
Machiavel prevent it if he can. 

" This is, sir, the long and the short of the matter. I am 
sensible I shall stir up a nest of wasps by it, but let them do 
their worst, I think that, we serve our country by discouraging 

* Leonard Webster, whcse translation of Longinus first appeare 1 in 
1712.—* 

b MUSSBUS. * 



364 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 109 

this little breed, and hindering it from coming * into fashion. If 
the fair sex look upon us with an eye of favour, we shall make 
some attempts to lengthen out the human figure, and restore it 
to its ancient procerity. In the mean time, we hope old age has 
not inclined you in favour of our antagonists, for I do assure you, 
Bir, we are all your high admirers, tho' none more than 

" Sir, Your's," &c. 



No. 109. THURSDAY, JULY 16. 

Tugnabat tunica sed tamen ilia tegi. — Ovid. 

I have received many letters from persons of all conditions, 
in reference to my late discourse concerning the tucker. Some 
of them are filled with reproaches and invectives. A lady who 
subscribes herself Teraminta, bids me, in a very pert manner, 
mind my own affairs, and not pretend to meddle with their linen ; 
for that they do not dress for an old fellow, who cannot see them 
without a pair of spectacles. Another, who calls herself Bub- 
nelia, vents her passion in scurrilous terms ; an old ninnyham- 
mer, a dotard, a nincompoop, is the best language she can afford 
me. Florella, indeed, expostulates with me upon the subject, 
and only complains that she is forced to return a pair of stays 
which were made in the extremity of the fashion, that she might 
not be thought to encourage peeping. 

But if, on the one side, I have been used ill, (the common 
fate of all reformers,) I have, on the other side, received great 

a Hindering it from coming. The two participles, here, have an ill 
effect. It had beea better to say — and by taking care that it may not comt 
into fashion. 



No. 109.] THE GUARDIAN. 365 

applauses and acknowledgments for what I have done, in having 
put a seasonable stop to this unaccountable humour of stripping, 
that was got among our British ladies. As I would much rather 
the world should know what is said to my praise, than to my 
disadvantage, I shall suppress what has been written to me by 
those who have reviled me on this occasion, and only publish 
those letters which approve my proceedings. 

" SIR, 

" I am to give you thanks in the name of half a dozen super- 
annuated beauties, for your paper of the 6th instant. We all of 
us pass for women of fifty, and a man of your sense knows how 
many additional years are always to be thrown into female com- 
putations of this nature. We are very sensible that several young 
flirts about town had a design to cast us out of the fashionable 
world, and to leave us in the lurch by some of their late refine- 
ments. Two or three of them have been heard to say, that they 
would kill every old woman about town. In order to it, they be- 
gan to throw off their clothes as fast as they could, and have play- 
ed all those pranks which you have so seasonably taken notice of. 
We were forced to uncover after them, being unwilling to give out 
so soon, and be regarded as veterans in the beau monde. Some 
o* us have already caught our deaths by it. For my own part, 
I have not been without a cold ever since this foolish fashion 
came up, I have followed it thus far with the hazard of my life, 
and how much further I must go nobody knows, if your paper 
does not bring us relief. You may assure yourself that all the 
antiquated necks about town are very much obliged to you. What- 
ever fires and flames are concealed in our bosoms (in which, per 
haps, we vie with the youngest of the sex,) they are not sufficient 
to preserve us against the wind and weather. In taking so 
many old women under your care, you have been a real Guardian 



366 THE GUARDIAN. P*<>- 109 

to us, and saved the life of many of your cotemporaries. In 
short, we all of us beg leave to subscribe ourselves, 

" Most venerable Nestor, 
" Your most humble servants and sisters." 

I am very well pleased with this approbation of my good sis 
ters. I must confess, I have always looked on the tucker to be 
the decus et tutamenf the ornament and defence of the female 
neck. My good old lady, the Lady Lizard, condemned this 
fashion from the beginning, and has observed to me, with some 
concern, that her sex, at the same time they are letting down 
their stays, are tucking up their petticoats, which grow shorter 
and shorter every day. The leg discovers itself in proportion 
with the neck. But I may possibly take another occasion of hand- 
ling this extremity, it being my design to keep a watchful eye 
over every part of the female sex, and to regulate them from head 
to foot. In the mean time, I shall fill up my paper with a letter 
which comes to me from another of my obliged correspondents. 

" Dear G-uardee, 
" This comes to you from one of those untuckered ladies 
whom you were so sharp upon on Monday was se'n-night. I think 
myself mightily beholden to you for the reprehension you then 
gave us. You must know I am a famous olive beauty. But 
though this complexion makes a very good face, when there are 
a couple of black sparkling eyes set in it, it makes but a very in- 
different neck. Your fair women, therefore, thought of this fash- 
ion, to insult the olives and the brunettes. They know very well 
that a neck of ivory does not make so fine a show as one of ala- 
baster. It is for this reason, Mr. Ironside, that they are so lib- 
eral in their discoveries. We know very well, that a woman of 

a Th words milled on the larger silver and gold coins of England. — * 



No. 110.] THE GUARDIAN. 367 

the whitest neck in the world, is to you no more than a woman 
of snow ; but Ovid, in Mr. Duke's translation of him, seems to 
look upon it with another eye, when he talks of Corinna, and 
mentions 

-Her heaving breast, 



Courting the hand, and suing to be prest. 

w Women of my complexion ought to be more modest, espe- 
cially since our faces debar us from all artificial whitenings. 
Could you examine many of these ladies, who present you with 
such beautiful snowy chests, you would find that they are not 
all of a piece. G-ood Father Nestor, do not let us alone till you 
have shortened our necks, and reduced them to their ancient 
standard. 

" I am your most obliged humble servant, 

" Olivia." 

I shall have a just regard to Olivia's remonstrance, though, 
at the same time, I cannot but observe, that her modesty seems 
to be entirely he result of her complexion. 



No. 110. FRIDAY. JULY 17. 



- Non ego paucis 



Offendor maculis, quas aut incuria fudit 
Aut huinana parum cavit natura 

The candour which Horace shows in the motto of my paper, 
is that which distinguishes a critic from a caviller. He declares 
that he is not offended with those little faults in a p oetical com 
position, which may be imputed to inadvertency, or to the imper 
fection of human nature. The truth of it is, there can be no 



3b8 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 110 

more a perfect work in the world, than a perfect man. To say 
of a celebrated piece that there are faults in it, is in effect to say 
no more, than that the author of it was a man. For this reason, 
I consider every critic that attacks an author in high reputa- 
tion, as the slave in the Roman triumph, who was to call out to 
the conqueror, ' Remember, sir, that you are a man.' I speak 
this in relation to the following letter, which criticises the works 
of a great poet, whose very faults have more beauty in them than 
the most elaborate compositions of many more correct writers. 
The remarks are very curious and just, and introduced by a com- 
pliment to the work a of an author, who, I am sure, would not 
care for being praised at the expence of another's reputation. I 
must, therefore, desire my correspondent to excuse me, if I do 
not publish either the preface or conclusion of his letter, but 
only the critical part of it. 



" Our tragedy writers have been notoriously defective in giv- 
ing proper sentiments to the persons they introduce. Nothing 
is more common than to hear an heathen talking of angels and 
devils, the joys of heaven and the pains of hell, according te 
the christian system. Lee's Alcander discovers himself to be a 
Cartesian in the first page of (Edipus. 



- The snn's sick too, 



Shortly he'll be an earth 

" As Dryden's Cleomenes is acquainted with the Copernican Ly 
pothesis two thousand years before its invention 

I am pleas'd with my own work; Jove was not more 
With infant nature, when his spacious hand 

a The tragedy of Cato, without aoubt. 



No 110.] THE GUARDIAN. 369 

Had rounded this huge hall of earth and seas, 
To give it the first push, and see it roll 
Along the vast abyss 

" I have now Mr. Dryden's Don Sebastian before me, in 
which I find frequent allusions to ancient history, and the old 
mythology of the heathen. It is not very natural to suppose a 
king of Portugal would be borrowing thoughts out of Ovid's 
Metamorphoses when he talked even to those of his own court, 
but to allude to these Roman fables when he talks to an emperor 
of Barbary, seems very extraordinary. But observe how he de- 
fies him out of the classics in the following lines : 

Why didst thou not engage me man to man, 
And try the virtue of that Gorgon face 
To stare me into statue ? 

" Almeyda, at the same time, is more book-learned than Don 
ftebastian. She plays an Hydra upon the emperor, that is full 
as good as the G-orgon. 

that I had the fruitful heads of Hydra, 
That one might bourgeon where another fell ! 
Still would I give thee work, still, still, thou tyrant, 
And hiss thee with the last 

" She afterwards, in allusion to Hercules, bids him l lay down 
the lion's skin, and take the distaff;' and in the following speech 
utters her passion still more learnedly. 

No, were we join'd, ev'n though it were in death, 
Our bodies burning in one funeral pile, 
The prodigy of Thebes would be renew'd, 
And my divided flame should break from thine. 

" The emperor of Barbary shows himself acquainted with 
the Roman poets, as well as either of his prisoners, and answer? 
the foregoing speech in the same classic strain. 
vol. iv. — 10* 



370 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 110 

Serpent, I will engender poison with thee. 
Our offspring, like the seed of dragon's teeth, 
Shall issue arm'd, and fight themselves to death. 

u Ovid seems to have been Muley Molock's favourite author, 
witness the lines that follow. 

She's still inexorable, still imperious 

And loud, as if, like Bacchus, born in thunder. 

" I shall conclude my remarks on his part, with that poetical 
complaint of his being in love, and leave my reader to consider 
how prettily it would sound in the mouth of an emperor of Mo- 
rocco. 

The God of Love once more has shot his fires 
Into my soul, and my whole heart receives him. 

" Muley Zeydan is as ingenious a man as his brother Muley 
Molock ; as where he hints at the story of Castor and Pollux. 



- May we ne'er meet ! 



For like the twins of Leda, when I mount 
He gallops down the skies 

" As for the Mufti, we will suppose that he was bred up a 
scholar, and not only versed in the law of Mahomet, but ac- 
quainted with all kinds of polite learning. For this reason, he 
is not at all surprised when Dorax calls him a Phaeton in one 
place, and in another tells him he is like Archimedes. 

*' The Mufti afterwards mentions Ximenes, Albornoz, and 
Cardinal Wolsey, by name. The poet seems to think he may 
make every person in his play know as much as himself, and talk 
as well as he could have done on the same occasion. At least I 
believe every reader will agree with me, that the above-mentioned 
.sentiments, to which I might have added several others, would 
have been better suited to the court of Augustus, than that of 
Muley Molock. I grant they are beautiful in themselves, and 



r °- HO.] THE GUARDIAN. 371 

much mo*e so in that noble language which was peculiar to this 
great poet. I only observe that they are improper for the per- 
sons who make use of them. Dryden is, indeed, generally wrong 
in his sentiments. Let any one read the dialogue between Oc- 
tavia and Cleopatra, and he will be amazed to hear a Roman la- 
dy's mouth filled with such obscene raillery. If the virtuous 
Octavia departs from her character, the loose Dolabella is no less 
inconsistent with himself, when, all of a sudden, he drops the 
Pagan, and talks in the sentiments of revealed religion. 

Heaven has but 

Our sorrow for our sins, and then delights 
To pardon erring man : sweet mercy seems 
Its darling attribute, which limits justice ; 
As if there were degrees in infinite: 
And infinite would rather want perfection 
Than punish to extent 

" I might show several faults of the same nature, in the cele- 
brated Aurenge-Zebe. The impropriety of thoughts in the 
speeches of the Great Mogul and his Empress, has been gener- 
ally censured. Take the sentiments out of the shining dress of 
words, and they would be too coarse for a scene in Billingsgate. 



« I am," &c. 



372 THE GUARDIAN. [No. Ill 

No. 111. SATUKDAY, JULY 18. 

Hie aliquis de gente hircosa centurionum 
Dicat: quod satis est sapio mihi; non ego euro 
Esse quod Arcesilas, aerum-nosique Solones. — Pers. 

I am very much concerned when I see young gentlemen 
fortune and quality so wholly set upon pleasures and diversions 
that they neglect all those improvements in wisdom and know- 
ledge, which may make them eas\ to themselves, and useful to the 
world. The greatest part of our British youth lose their figure 
and grow out of fashion, by that time they are five and twenty. 
As soon as the natural gaiety and amiableness of the young man 
wears oif, they have nothing left to recommend them, but lie by 
the rest of their lives among the lumber and refuse of the species. 
It sometimes happens, indeed, that for want of applying them- 
selves in due time to the pursuits of knowledge, they take up a 
book in their declining years, and grow very hopeful scholars by 
that time they are threescore. I must, therefore, earnestly 
press my readers, who are in the flower of their youth, to labour 
at those accomplishments which may set off their persons when 
their bloom is gone, and to lay in timely provisions for manhood 
and old age. In short, I would advise the youth of fifteen to be 
dressing up every day the man of fifty, or to consider how to 
make himself venerable at threescore. 

Young men, who are naturally ambitious, would do well to 
observe how the greatest men of antiquity made it their ambition 
to excel all their contemporaries in knowledge. Julius Caesar 
and Alexander, the most celebrated instances of human great- 
ness, took a particular care to distinguish themselves by their 
skill in the arts and sciences We have still extant several re- 
mains of the former, which justify the character given of him by 
the learned men of his own age As for the latter, it is? a knowD 



No. 111.] THE GUARDIAN. 373 

saying of his, that he was more obliged to Aristotle who had in- 
structed him, than to Philip who had given him life and empire 
There is a letter of his recorded by Plutarch and Aulus G-eliius 
which he wrote to Aristotle, upon hearing that he had published 
those lectures he had given him in private. This letter was 
written in the following words, at a time when he was in the 
height of his Persian conquests. 

Alexander to Aristotle, greeting. 

11 You have not done well to publish your books of Select 
Knowledge ; for what is there now in which I can surpass others, 
if those things which I have been instructed in are communicated 
to every body ? For my own part, I declare to you, T would 
rather excel others in knowledge than in power. 

"Farewel." 

We see, by this letter, that the love of conquest was but the 
second ambition in Alexander's soul. Knowledge is, indeed, 
that which, next to virtue, truly and essentially raises one man 
above another. It finishes one half of the human soul. It makes 
being pleasant to us, fills the mind with entertaining views, and 
administers to it a perpetual series of gratifications. It gives 
ease to solitude, and gracefulness to retirement. It fills a public 
station with suitable abilities, and adds a lustre to those who are 
in possession of them. 

Learning, by which I mean all useful knowledge, whether 
speculative or practical, is, in popular and mixed governments, 
the natural source of wealth and honour. If we look into most 
of the reigns from the conquest, we shall find that the favourites 
of each reign have been those who have raised themselves. The 
greatest men are generally the growth of that particular age in 
which they flourish. A superior capacity for business, and a 



374 THE GUARDIAN. [No. Ill 

more extensive knowledge, are the steps by which a new man 
often mounts to favour, and outshines the rest of his contempo- 
raries. But when men are actually born to titles, it is almost 
impossible that they should fail of receiving an additional great- 
ness, if they take care to accomplish themselves for it. 

The story of Solomon's choice does not only instruct us in 
that point of history, but furnishes out a very fine moral to us, 
namely, that he who applies his heart to wisdom, does, at the 
same time, take the most proper method for gaining long life, 
riches, and reputation, which are very often not only the rewards, 
but the effects of wisdom. 

As it is very suitable to my present subject, I shall first of 
all quote this passage in the words of sacred writ ; and after- 
wards mention an allegory, in which this whole passage is repre- 
sented by a famous French poet ; not questioning but it will be 
very pleasing to such of my readers as have a taste of fine 
writing. 

' In Gibeon the Lord appeared to Solomon in a dream by 
night : and God said, Ask what I shall give thee. And Solomon 
said, Thou hast showed untu thy servant David, my father, great 
mercy, according as he walked before thee in truth and in right- 
eousness, and in uprightness of heart with thee, and thou hast 
kept for him this great kindness, that thou hast given him a son 
to sit on his throne, as it is this day. And now, Lord my 
God, thou hast made thy servant king instead of David my 
father : and I am but a little child : I know not how to go out 
or come in. Give, therefore, thy servant an understanding heart 
to judge thy people, that I may discern between good and bad : 
for who is able to judge this thy so great a people ? And the 
speech pleased the Lord, that Solomon had asked this thing. 
And God said unto him, Because thou hast asked this thing, and 
hast not asked for thyself long life, neither hast asked riches for 



liO. 111.] THE GUARDIAN. 375 

thyself, nor hast asked the life of thine enemies, but hast asked 
for thyself understanding to discern judgment ; behold I have 
done according to thy words : lo, I have given thee a wise and 
understanding heart, so that there was none like thee before thee, 
neither after thee shall any arise like unto thee And I have 
also given thee that which thou hast not asked, both riches and 
honour, so that there shall not be any among the kings like unto 
thee all thy days. And if thou wilt walk in my ways, to keep 
my statutes and my commandments, as thy father David did 
walk, then I will lengthen thy days. And Solomon awoke, and 
behold it was a dream.' 

The French poet has shadowed this story in an allegory, of 
which he seems to have taken the hint from the fable of the three 
goddesses appearing to Paris, or rather from the vision of Herr 
cules, recorded by Xenophon, where Pleasure and Virtue are re- 
presented as real persons making their court to the hero with 
all their several charms and allurements. Health, wealth, vic- 
tory, and honour, are introduced successively in their proper em- 
blems and characters, each of them spreading her temptations, 
and recommending herself to the young monarch's choice. Wis- 
dom enters the last, and so captivates him with her appearance, 
that he gives himself up to her. Upon which she informs him, 
that those who appeared before her were nothing else but her 
equipage, and that since he had placed his heart upon wisdom ; 
health, wealth, victory, and honour, should always wait on her as 
her handmaids. 



376 THE GUARDIAN. I" 1 * - 1J * 

No. 112. MONDAY, JULY 20. 



Spemit humum fugiente penna.— Hob. 

The philosophers of King Charles's reign were busy in find- 
ing out the art of flying. The famous Bishop Wilkins was so 
confident of success in it, that he says he does not question but 
in the next age it will be as usual to hear a man call for his 
wings when he is going a journey, as it is now to call for his 
boots. The humour so prevailed among the virtuosos of this 
reign, that they were actually making parties to go up to the 
moon together, and were more put to it in their thoughts how to 
raeet with accommodations by the way, than how to get. thither. 
•Every one knows the story of the great lady, who at the same 
time was building castles in the air for their reception.* I al- 
ways leave such trite quotations to my reader's private recollec- 
tion. For which reason also I shall forbear extracting out of 
authors several instances of particular persons who have arrived 
at some perfection in this art, and exhibited specimens of it be- 
fore multitudes of beholders. Instead of this, I shall present 
my reader with the following letter from an artist, who is now 
taken up with this invention, and conceals his true name under 
that of Daedalus. 

" Mr. Ironside, 
" Knowing that you are a great encourager of ingenuity I 
think fit to acquaint you. that I have made a considerable pro- 
gress in the art of flying. I flutter about my room two or three 
hours in a morning, and when my wings are on, can go above an 

a Margaret, Duchess of Newcastle, objected to Bishop "Wilkins the 
want of waiting places in the way to his new world. The Bishop ex- 
pressed his surprise that the objection should be made by a lady who 
had all her life been employed in building castles in the air. — * 



8o 112.] THE GUARDIAN. 377 

hundred yards at a hop, step, and jump. I can fly already as 
well as a Turkey-cock, and improve every day. If I proceed as 
I have begun, I intend to give the world a proof of my pro- 
ficiency in this art. Upon the next public thanksgiving-day, it 
is my design to sit astride the dragon upon Bow steeple, from 
whence after the first discharge of the Tower guns, I intend to 
mount into the air, fly over Fleet-street, and pitch upon the May- 
pole in the Strand. From thence, by a gradual descent, I shall 
make the best of my way for St. James's Park, and light upon 
the ground near Rosamond's pond. This, I doubt not, will con- 
vince the world, that I am no pretender : but before I set out, 
I shall desire to have a patent for making of wings, and that 
none shall presume to fly, under pain of death, with wings of any 
other man's making. I intend to work for the court myself, and 
will have journeymen under me to furnish the rest of the nation. 
I likewise desire, that I may have the sole teaching of persons 
of quality, in which I shall spare neither time nor pains till I 
have made them as expert as myself. I will fly with the women 
upon my back for the first fortnight. I shall appear at the next 
masquerade, dressed up in my feathers and plumage like an In- 
dian prince, that the quality may see how pretty they will look 
in their travelling habits. You know, sir, there is an unaccount- 
able prejudice to projectors of all kinds, for which reason, when 
I talk of practising to fly, silly people think me an owl for my 
pains ; but, sir, you know better things. I need not enumerate 
to you the benefits which will accrue to the public from this in- 
vention, as how the roads of England will be saved when we 
travel through these new high-ways, and how all family-accounts 
will be lessened in the article of coaches and horses. I need 
not mention posts and packet-boats, with many other conven- 
iences oi life, which will be supplied this way. In short, sir, 
when mankind are in possession of this art, they will be able to 



378 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 112. 

do more business in threescore and ten years, than they could do 
in a thousand by the methods now in use. I therefore recom- 
mend myself and art to your patronage, and am, 

" Your most humble servant." 

I have fully considered the project of these our modern 
Dsedalists, and am resolved so far to discourage it, as to prevent 
any person from flying in my time. It would fill the world with 
innumerable immoralities, and give such occasions for intrigues as 
people cannot meet with who have nothing but legs to carry them. 
You should have a couple of lovers make a midnight assignation 
upon the top of the monument, and see the cupola of St. Paul's 
covered with both sexes like the outside of a pigeon-house. 
Nothing would be more frequent than to see a beau flying in at 
a garret window, or a gallant giving chase to his mistress, like a 
hawk after a lark. There would be no walking in a shady wood 
without springing a covey of toasts. The poor husband could 
not dream what was doing over his head : if he were jealous, in- 
deed, he might clip his wife's wings, but what would this avail 
when there were flocks of whore-masters perpetually hovering over 
his house ? what concern would the father of a family be in all the 
time his daughter was upon the wing ? every heiress must have 
an old woman flying at her heels. In short, the whole air would 
be full of this kind of gibier, as the French call it. I do allow, 
with my correspondent, that there would be much more business 
done than there is at present. However, should he apply for 
such a patent as he speaks of, I question not but there would be 
more petitions out of the city against it, than ever yet appeared 
against any other monopoly whatsoever. Every tradesman that 
cannot keep his wife a coach could keep her a pair of wings, and 
there is no doubt but she would be every morning and evening 
taking the air with them. 



No. 113.] THE GUARDIAN. 379 

I have here only considered the ill consequences of this in- 
vention in the influences it would have on love affairs : I have 
many more objections to make on other accounts ; but these I 
shall defer publishing till I see my friend astride the dragon. 



No. 113. TUESDAY JULY 21. 



- Amphora caepit 



Institui, currente rota, cur urceus exit ? — Hor. 

I last night received a letter from an honest citizen, who, it 
seems, is in his honey-moon. It is written by a plain man on a 
plain subject, but has an air of good sense and natural honesty 
in it, which may, perhaps, please the public as much as myself. 
I shall not, therefore, scruple the giving it a place in my paper, 
which is designed for common use, and for the benefit of the 
poor as well as ricfe 

Cheapside, July 18 
" Good Mr. Ironside, 
" I have lately married a very pretty body, who, being some- 
thing younger and richer than myself, I was advised to go a woo- 
ing to her in a finer suit of clothes than I ever wore in my life ; 
for I love to dress plain, and suitable to a man of my rank. 
However, I gained her heart by it. Upon the wedding-day, I 
put myself, according to custom, in another suit, fire-new, with 
silver buttons to it. I %m so out of countenance among my 
neighbours, upon being so fine, that I heartily wish my clothes 
well worn out. I fancy every body observes me as I walk the 
street, and long to be in my old plain geer again. Besides, for- 
gooth, they have put me in a silk night-gown and a gaudy fool's 



380 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 113 

cap, and make me now and then stand in the window with it. I 
am ashamed to be dandled thus, and cannot look in the glass 
without blushing to see myself turned into such a pretty little 
master. They tell me I must appear in my wedding-suit for the 
first month at least ; after which I am resolved to come again to 
my every day's clothes, for at present every day is Sunday with 
me. Now, in my mind, Mr. Ironside, this is the wrongest way 
of proceeding in the world. When a man's person is new and 
unaccustomed to a young body, he does not want any thing else 
to set him off. The novelty of the lover has more charms than 
a wedding-suit. I should think, therefore, that a man should 
keep his finery for the latter seasons of marriage, and not begin 
to dress till the honey-moon is over. I have observed, at a 
lord-mayor's feast, that the sweetmeats do not make their appear- 
ance until people are cloyed with beef and mutton, and begin to 
lose their stomachs. But, instead of this, we serve up delicacies 
to our guests when their appetites are keen, and coarse diet when 
their bellies are full. As bad as I hate my snivel buttoned coat 
and silk night-gown, I am afraid of leaving them off, not know- 
ing whether my wife won't repent of her marriage when she sees 
what a plain man she has to her husband. Pray, Mr. Ironside, 
write something to prepare her for it, and let me know whether 
you think she can ever love me in a hair button. 

" I am, &c. 

" P. S. I forgot to tell you of my white gloves, which they 
way, too, I must wear all the first month." 

My correspondent's observations are very just, and may be 
useful in low life ; but to turn them to the advantage of people 
in higher stations, I shall raise the moral, and observe something 
parallel to the wooing and wedding-suit, in the behaviour of per* 



Nc 113.] THE GUARDIAN. 38* 

sons of figure. After long experience in the world, and reflections 
upon mankind, I find one particular occasion of unhappy mar- 
riages, which, though very common, is not very much attended to. 
What I mean is this. Every man in the time of ccurtship, and 
in the first entrance of marriage, puts on a behaviour like my cor- 
respondent's holiday-suit, which is to last no longer than till he is 
settled in the possession of his mistress. He resigns his inclina- 
tions and understanding to her humour and opinion. He neither 
loves, nor hates, nor talks, nor thinks in contradiction to her. He 
is controlled by a nod, mortified by a frown, and transported by 
a smile. The poor young lady falls in love with this supple crea- 
ture, and expects of him the same behaviour for life. In a little 
time she finds that he has a will of his own, that he pretends to 
dislike what she approves, and that instead of treating her like a 
goddess, he uses her like a woman. What still makes the mis- 
fortune worse, we find the most abject flatterers degenerate into 
the greatest tyrants. This naturally fills the spouse with sullen- 
ness and discontent, spleen and vapour, which, with a little dis- 
creet management, make a very comfortable marriage. I very 
much approve of my friend Tom Truelove in this particular. Tom 
made love to a woman of sense, and always treated her as such 
during the whole time of courtship. His natural temper and good 
breeding hindered him from doing any thing disagreeable, as his 
sincerity and frankness of behaviour made him converse with her, 
before marriage, in the same manner he intended to continue* to 
do afterwards. Tom would often tell her, ' Madam, you see what 
a sort of man I am. If you will take me with all my faults about 
me, I promise to mend rather than grow worse.' I remember 
Tom was once hinting his dislike of some little trifle his mistress 
had said or done ; upon which she asked him how he wouH talk 
to her after marriage, if he talked at this rate before ? No 
a Better strike out — t continue. 



382 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 114 

madam, (says Tom) I mention this now, because you are at your 
own disposal, were you at mine, I should be too generous to do 
it.' In short, Tom succeeded, and has ever since been better 
than his word. The lady has been disappointed on the right-side 
and has found nothing more disagreeable in the husband than sh* 
discovered in the lover. 



No. 114. WEDNESDAY, JULY 22. 

Alveos accipite, ceris opus infundite. 

Fuci recusant, appibus conditio placet — Pbjed. 

I think myself obliged to acquaint the qublic, that the lion^ 
head, of which I advertised them about a fortnight ago, is now 
erected at Button's coffee-house, in Russel-street, Covent-garden, 
where it opens its mouth at all hours for the reception of such in- 
telligence as shall be thrown into it. It is reckoned an excellent; 
piece of workmanship, and was designed by a great hand in imita- 
tion of the antique Egyptian lion, the face of it being compounded 
out of that of a lion and a wizard. The features are strong and 
well furrowed. The whiskers are admired by all that have seen 
them. It is planted on the western side of the coffee-house, hold- 
ing its paws under the chin upon a box, which contains everv 
thing that he swallows. He is, indeed, a proper emblem of 
Knowledge and Action, being all head and paws. 

I need not acquaint my readers, that my lion, like a moth or 
book-worm, feeds upon nothing but paper, and shall only beg of 
them to diet him with wholesome and substantial food. I must, 
therefore, desire, that they will not gorge him eithei with non- 
sense or obscenity ; and must likewise insist, that his mouth be 



No 114.] THE GUARDIAN. 383 

not defiled with scandal, for I would not make use of him to revile 
the human species, and satirize those who are his betters, j 
shall not suffer him to worry any man's reputation, nor, indeed, 
fall on any person whatsoever, such only excepted as disgrace 
the name of this generous animal, and under the title of lions, 
contrive the ruin of their fellow-subjects. I must desire like- 
wise, that intriguers will not make a pimp of my lion, and by his 
means convey their thoughts to one another. Those who are 
read in the history of the popes, observe that the Leos have 
been the best, and the Innocents the worst of that species, and I 
hope that I shall not be thought to derogate from my lion's cha- 
racter, by representing him as such a peaceable, good-natured, 
well- designing beast. 

I intend to publish once every week, the Roarings of the Lion 
and hope to make him roar so loud as to be heard over all the 
British nation. 

If my correspondents will do their parts in prompting him 
and supplying him with suitable provision, I question not bui 
the lion's head will be reckoned the best head in England 

There is a notion generally received in the world, that a lion 
is a dangerous creature to all women who are not virgins, which 
may have given occasion to a foolish report, that my lion's jaws 
are so contrived as to snap the hands of any of the female sex, 
who are not thus qualified to approach it with safety. I shall 
not spend much time in exposing the falsity of this report, which, 
I believe, will not weigh any thing with women of sense : I shall 
only say, that there is not one of the sex in all the neighbour- 
hood of Covent-garden, who may not put her hand in the mouth 
with the same security as if she were a vestal. However, that 
the ladies may not be deterred from corresponding with me by 
this method, I must acquaint them, that the coffee-man has a 
little daughter of about four years old, who has been virtuously 



384 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 114. 

educated, and will lend her hand, upon this occasion, to any lady 
that shall desire it of her. 

In the mean time, I must further acquaint my fair readers, 
Jiat I have thoughts of making a further provision for them at 
my ingenious friend Mr. Motteux's, or at Corticelli's, or some 
other place frequented by the wits and beauties of the sex. As 
have here a lion's head for the men, I shall there erect an uni- 
corn's head for the ladies, and will so contrive it that they may 
Dut in their intelligence at the top of the horn, which shall con- 
vey it into a little receptacle at the bottom, prepared for that 
purpose. Out of these two magazines I shall supply the town 
from time to time with what may tend to their edification, and at 
the same time carry on an epistolary correspondence between the 
two heads, not a little beneficial both to the public and to my- 
self. As both these monsters will be very insatiable, and devour 
great quantities of paper, there will no small use redound from 
them to that manufacture in particular. 

The following letter having been left with the keeper of the 
lion, with a request from the writer that it may be the first mor- 
sel which is put into his mouth, I shall communicate it to the 
public as it came to my hand, without examining whether it be 
proper nourishment, as I intend to do for the future 

" Mr. Guardian, 
" Your predecessor, the Spectator, endeavoured, but in vain, 
to improve the charms of the fair sex, by exposing their dress 
whenever it launched into extremities. Among the rest, 'the 
great petticoat came under his consideration, but in contradiction 
to whatever he has said, they still resolutely persist in this 
fashion. The form of their bottom is not, I confess, altogether 
the same ; for whereas, before, it was of an orbicular make, they 
now look as if they were pressed, so that they seem to deny 



No. 115.] THE GUARDIAN. 385 

access to any part but the middle. Many are the inconveniences 
that accrue to her majesty's loving subjects from the said petti- 
coats, as hurting men's shins, sweeping down the ware of indus- 
trious females in the street, &c. I saw a young lady fall down, 
the other day, and believe me, sir, she very much resembled an 
overturned bell without a clapper. Many other disasters I could 
tell you of that befal themselves as well as others, by means of 
this unwieldy garment. I wish, Mr. Guardian, you would join 
with me in showing your dislike of such a monstrous fashion, 
and I hope when the ladies see it is the opinion of two of the 
wisest men in England, they will be convinced of their folly. 
" I am, sir, your daily reader and admirer, 

" Tom Plain." 



No. 115. THURSDAY, JULY 23. 

Ingenium par materise- Jut. 

When I read rules of criticism, I immediately inquire after the 
works of the author who has written them, and by that means 
discover what it is he likes in a composition ; for there is no 
question but every man aims at least at what he thinks beautiful 
in others. If I find by his own manner of writing that he is 
heavy and tasteless, I throw aside his criticisms with a secret 
indignation, to see a man without genius or politeness dictating 
to the world on subjects which I find are above his reach. 

If the critic has published nothing but rules and observations 

in criticism, I then consider whether there be a propriety and 

elegance in his thoughts and words, clearness and delicacy in his 

remarks, wit and good-breeding in his raillery ; but, if in the 

vol. iv. — 17 



385 THE GUARDIAJN. [^O. 115. 

place of all these, I find nothing but dogmatical stupidity, I must 
beg such a writer's pardon if I have no manner of deference for 
his judgment, and refuse to conform myself to his taste. 

So Macer and Mundungus school the times, 

And write in rugged prose the softer rules of rhymea 

'Well do they play the careful critic's part, 

Instructing doubly by their matchless art: 

Rules for good verse they first with pains indite, 

Then shew us what are bad, by what they write. 

Mr. Congreve to Sir E. Temple. 

The greatest critics among the ancients are those who have 
the most excelled in all other kinds of composition, and have 
shown the height of good writing even in the precepts which they 
have given for it. 

Among the moderns likewise, no critic has ever pleased, or 
been looked upon as authentic, who did not show, by his practice, 
that he was a master of the theory. I have now one before me 
who after having given many proofs of his performances both ii 
poetry and proao obliged the world with several critical works. 
The author I mean is Strada. His prolusion on the style of the 
most famous among the ancient Latin poets who are extant, and 
have written in epic verse, is one of the most entertaining, as 
well as the most just pieces of criticism that I have ever read. 
I shall make the plan of it the subject of this day's paper." 

It is commonly known, that Pope Leo the Tenth was a great 
patron of learning, and used to be present at the performances, 
conversations, and disputes, of all the most polite writers of his 
time. Upon this bottom Strada founds the following narrative. 
When this pope was at his villa, that stood upon an eminence on the 
>anks of the Tiber, the poets contrived the following pageant, or 
Aiachine for his entertainment. They made a huge floating 
mountain, that was split at the top in imitation of Parnassus. 
* Strada} Pro]. Acad. lib. : . Prcl. Poet, v.—* 



No H&.J THE GUARDIAN. 387 

There were severa marks on it that distinguished it for the habi- 
tation of heroic poets. Of all the Muses, Calliope only made 
her appearance. It was covered up and down with groves of laurel. 
Pegasus appeared hanging off the side of a rock, with a fountain 
running from his heel. This floating Parnassus fell down the 
river to the sound of trumpets, and in a kind of epic measure, 
for it was rowed forward by six huge wheels, three on each side, 
that by their constant motion, carried on the machine until it 
arrived before the pope's villa. 

The representatives of the ancient poets were disposed in 
stations suitable to their respective characters. Statius was 
posted on the highest of the two summits, which was fashioned 
in the form of a precipice, and hung over the rest of the moun- 
tain in a dreadful manner, so that people regarded him with the 
same terror and curiosity as they look upon a daring rope-dancer 
whom they expect to fall every moment. 

Claudian was seated on the other summit, which was lower, 
and at the same time more smooth and even than the former. It 
was observed likewise to be more barren, and to produce on some 
spots of it, plants that are unknown to Italy, and such as the 
gardeners call exotics. 

Lucretius was very busy about the roots of the mountain, 
being wholly intent upon the motion and management of the 
machine which was under his conduct, and was, indeed, of his in- 
vention. He was sometimes so engaged among the wheels, and 
covere ! with machinery, that not above half the poet appeared to 
the spectators, though at other times, by the working of the en- 
gines, he was raised up and became as conspicuous as any of the 
brotherhood. 

Ovid did not settle in any particular place, but ranged over 
all Parnassus with great nimbleness and activity. But as he did 
not much care for the toil and pains that were requisite to climb 



388 THE GUARDIAN. [Ho. 115 

the upper part of the hill, he was generally roving about the 
bottom of it. 

But there was none who was placed in a more eminent station, 
and had a greater prospect under him than Lucan. He vaulted 
upon Pegasus with all the heat and intrepidity of youth, and 
seemed desirous of mounting into the clouds upon the back of 
him. But as the hinder feet of the horse stuck to the mountain 
while the body reared up in the air, the poet, with great diffi- 
culty, kept himself from sliding off his back, insomuch that the 
people often gave him for gone, and cried out, every now and 
then, that he was tumbling. 

Virgil, with great modesty in his looks, was seated by Calli- 
ope, in the midst of a plantation of laurels which grew thick 
about him, and almost covered him with their shade. He would 
not, perhaps, have been seen in this retirement, but that it was 
impossible to look upon Calliope without seeing Virgil at the 
same time. 

This poetical masquerade*was no sooner arrived before the 
pope's villa, but they received an invitation to land, which they 
did accordingly. The hall prepared for their reception was filled 
with an audience of the greatest eminence for quality and polite- 
ness. The poets took their places, and repeated each of them a 
poem written in the style and spirit of those immortal authors 
whom they represented. The subjects of these several poems, 
with the judgment passed upon each of them, may be an agree- 
able entertainment for another day's paper. 



Nall6."l THE GUARD. AN. 



No. 116. FRIDAY, JULY 24. 



— Eidiculum acri 



Fortius et melius Hok. 

There are many little enormities in the world, which our 
preachers would be very glad to see removed ; but at the same 
time dare not meddle with them, for fear of betraying the dignity 
of the pulpit. Should they recommend the tucker in a pathetic 
discourse, their audiences would be apt to laugh out. I knew 
a parish, where the top woman of it used always to appear with a 
patch upon some part of her forehead: the good man of the place 
preached at it with great zeal for almost a twelvemonth ; but in- 
stead of fetching out the spot which he perpetually aimed at, he 
only got the name of Parson Patch for his pains. Another is to 
this day called by the name of Doctor Topknot, for reasons of the 
same nature. I remember the clergy, during the time of Crom- 
well's usurpation, were very much taken up in reforming the fe- 
male world, and showing the vanity of those outward ornaments 
in which the sex so much delights. I have heard a whole sermon 
against a white-wash, and have known a coloured ribbon made 
the mark of the unconverted. The clergy of the present age are 
not transported with these indiscreet fervours, as knowing that it 
is hard for a reformer to avoid ridicule, when he is severe upon 
subjects which are rather apt to produce mirth than seriousness. 
For this reason I look upon myself to be of great use to these 
good men ; while they are employed in extirpating mortal sins, 
and crimes of a higher nature, I should be glad to rally the 
world out of indecencies and venial transgressions. While the 
Doctor is curing distempers that have the appearance of danger 
or death in them, the Merry Andrew has his separate packet for 
the meagrims and the tooth-ache. 



590 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 116. 

Thus much I thought fit to premise, before I resume the sub- 
ject which I have already handled, I mean the naked bosoms of 
our British ladies. I hope they will not take it ill of me, if I 
still beg thai they will be covered. I shall here present them 
with a letter on that particular, as it was yesterday conveyed to 
me through the lion's mouth. It comes from a quaker, and is as 
follows : 

" Nestor Ironside, 

" Our friends like thee. We rejoice to find thou beginnest to 
Have a glimmering of the light in thee : we shall pray for thee, 
that thou mayest be more and more enlightened. ' Thou givest 
good advice to the women of this world to clothe themselves like 
unto our friends, and not to expose their fleshly temptations, for 
it is against the record. Thy lion is a good lion ; he roareth 
loud, and is heard a great way, even unto the sink of Babylon ; 
for the scarlet whore is governed by the voice of thy lion. Look 
on his order. 

" Rome, July 8, 1713. 'A placard is published here, for- 
bidding women, of whatsoever quality, to go with naked breasts ; 
and the priests are ordered not to admit the transgressors of this 
law to confession, nor to communion ; neither are they to enter 
the cathedrals under severe penalties.' 

" These lines are faithfully copied from the nightly paper, 
with this title written over it, The Evening Post, from Saturday 
July the 18th, to Tuesday, July the 21st. 

" Seeing thy lion is obeyed at this distance, we hope the fool- 
ish women in thy own country will listen to thy admonitions. 
Otherwise thou art desired to make him still roar, till all tho 
beasts of the forest shall tremble. I must again repeat unto thee, 
friend Nestor, the whole brotherhood have great hopes of thee, 
and expect to see thee so inspired with the light, as thou mav- 



No. 117.] THE GUARDIAN. 39' 

est speedily become a great preacher of tht? word. I wish it 
heartily. 

" Thine, 
" In every thing that is praise-worthy, 
Tom's coffee-house in Bir- 
chin-lane, the 23d day of " Tom Tremble.' 

the month called July. 

It happens very oddly that the pope and I should have the 
same thought much about the same time. My enemies will be 
apt to say that we hold a correspondence together, and act by 
concert in this matter. Let that be as it will, I shall not be 
ashamed to join with his holiness in those particulars which are 
indifferent between us, especially when it is for the reformation 
of the finer half of mankind. We are both of us about the same 
age, and consider this fashion in the same view. I hope that it 
will not be able to resist his bull and my lion. I am only afraid 
that our ladies will take occasion, from hence, to show their zeal 
for the protestant religion, and pretend to expose their naked 
bosoms only in opposition to popery. 



No. 117. SATURDAY, JULY 25. 

Oura pii Diis sunt. — ■ Ovid. 

Looking over the late edition of Monsieur Boileau's works, I 
was very much pleased with the article which he has added to 
his notes on the translation of Longinus. 1 He there tells us, that 
the sublime in writing rises either from the nobleness of the 
thought, the magnificence of the words, or the harm jnious and 

l Roileau — Reflexions critiques sur quelques passages du Rheieur 
Longin, Refl, xii. — G-. 



392 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 117 

lively turn of the phrase, and that the perfect sublime aris«a 
from all these .three in conjunction together. He produces an 
instance of this perfect sublime in four verses from the Athaliah 
of Monsieur Racine. When Abner, one of the chief officers of 
the court, represents to Joad the high-priest, that the queen was 
incensed against him, the high-priest, not in the least terrified at 
the news, returns this answer. 

Celui qui met un frein a la fureur des flots, 

Sgait aussi des medians arreter les complots. 

Soumis avec respect a sa volonte Sainte, 

Je crains Dieu, cher Abner, et n'ai point d'autre crainte. J 

1 He who ruleth the raging of the sea, knows also how to check 
the designs of the ungodly. I submit myself with reverence to 
his holy will. Abner, I fear my God, and I fear none but 
him.' Such a thought gives no less a sublimity to human nature, 
than it does to good writing. This religious fear, when it is pro- 
duced by just apprehensions of a Divine Power, naturally over- 
looks all human greatness that stands in competition with it, and 
extinguishes every other terror that can settle itself in the heart 
of man ; it lessens and contracts the figure of the most exalted 
person ; it disarms the tyrant and executioner, and represents to 
our minds the most enraged and the most powerful as altogether 
harmless and impotent. 

There is no true fortitude which is not founded upon this 
fear, as there is no other principle of so settled and fixed a nature 
Courage that grows from constitution very often forsakes a man 
when he has occasion for it ; and when it is only a kind of in- 
stinct in the soul, breaks out on all occasions, without judgment 
or discretion. That courage which proceeds from the sense of 
our duty, and from the fear of offending him that made us, acts 

i Athalie, Act 1. Scene 1.— G. 



No. 117.] THE GUARDIAN. 39o 

always in ar uniform manner, and according to the dictates of 
right reason 

What can the man fear, who takes care in all his actions to 
please a Being that is Omnipotent ? A Being who is able to 
crush all his adversaries ? A Being that can divert any misfor- 
tune from befalling him, or turn any such misfortune to his ad- 
vantage ? The person who lives with this constant and habitual 
regard to the great Superintendent of the world, is indeed sure 
that no real evil can come into his lot. Blessings may appear 
under the shape of pains, losses, and disappointments, but let 
him have patience, and he will see them in their proper figures. 
Dangers may threaten him, but he may rest satisfied that they 
will either not reach him, or that if they do, they will be the in- 
struments of good to him. In short, he may look upon all crosses 
and accidents, sufferings and afflictions, as means which are made 
use of to bring him to happiness. This is even the worst of that 
man's condition whose mind is possessed with the habituul fear 
of which I am now speaking. But it very often happens, that 
those which appear evils in our own eyes, appear also as such to 
him who has human nature under his care, in which case they are 
certainly averted from the person who has made himself, by this 
virtue, an object of Divine favour. Histories are full of in- 
stances of this nature, where men of virtue have had extraor- 
dinary escapes out of such dangers as have enclosed them, and 
which have seemed inevitable. 

There is no example of this kind in Pagan history, which 
more pleases me, than that which is recorded in the life of Timo« 
leon. This extraordinary man was famous for referring all his 
successes to Providence. Cornelius Nepos acquaints us that he 
had in his house a private chapel, in which he used to pay his de- 
votions to the goddess who represented Providence among the 
heathens. I think no man was ever more distinguished by the 
vol. iv. — 17* 



394 THE GUARD AN. [No. 117. 

deity whom he blindly worshipped, than the great person I am 
speaking of, in several occurrences of his life, but pai ticularly in 
the following one which I shall relate out of Plutarch. 

Three persons had entered into a conspiracy to assassinate 
Timoleon as he was offering up his devotions in a certain temple. 
In order to it, they took their several stands in the most conveni- 
ent places for their purpose. As they were waiting for an oppor- 
tunity to put their design in execution, a stranger having observ- 
( d one of the conspirators, fell upon him and slew him. Upon 
which the other two, thinking their plot had been discovered, 
threw themselves at Timoleon's feet, and confessed the whole 
matter. This stranger, upon examination, was found to have 
understood nothing of the intended assassination, but having 
several years before had a brother killed by the conspirator whom 
he here put to death, and having till now sought in vain for an 
opportunity of revenge, he chanced to meet the murderer in the 
temple, who had planted himself there for the above-mentioned 
purpose. Plutarch cannot forbear, on this occasion, speaking 
with a kind of rapture on the schemes of Providence, which, in 
this particular, had so contrived it, that the stranger should, for 
so great a space of time, be debarred the means of doing justice 
to his brother, until, by the same blow that revenged the death 
of one innocent man, he preserved the life of another. 

For my own part, I cannot wonder that a man of Timoleon's 
religion a should have his intrepidity and firmness of mind, or 
that he should be distinguished by such a deliverance as I have 
here related. 

a A man of Timoleon's religion. Ambiguously, and therefore ill ex- 
pressed : for a man of Timoleon's religion, may as well mean a pagan as a 
pious man. He should have said — a man of so much relig'on as Timoleoi^ 
&<s. 



[No. 118. THE GUARDIAN. 395 



No. 118. MONDAY, JULY 27. 



-Largitor ingeni 



Yenter Pkrs. 

I am very well pleased to find that my lion has given such 
universal content to all that have seen him. He has had a 
greater number of visitants than any of his brotherhood in the 
Tower. I this morning examined his maw, where among much 
other food, I found the following delicious morsels. 

To Nestor Ironside, Esq. 

" MR. GUARDIAN, 

I am a daily peruser of your papers. I have read over and 
over your discourse concerning the tucker ; as likewise your 
paper of Thursday the 16th instant, in which you say it is your 
intention to keep a watchful eye over every part of the female 
sex, and to regulate them from head to foot. Now, sir, being by 
profession a mantua-maker, who am employed by the most fashion- 
able ladies about town, I am admitted to them freely at all hours, 
and seeing them both dressed and undressed, I think there is no 
person better qualified than myself to serve you (if your honour 
pleases) in the nature of a lioness. I am in the whole secret of 
their fashion, and if you think fit to entertain me in this charac- 
ter, I will have a constant watch over them, and doubt not I shall 
send you, from time to time, such private intelligence, as you will 
find of use to you in your future papers. 

" Sir, this being a new proposal, I hope you will not let me 
lose the benefit of it : but that you will first hear me roar, before 
you treat with any body else. As a sample of my intended ser- 
vices, I give you this timely notice of an improvement you will 
shortly see in the exposing of the female chest, which, in defi- 
ance of your gravity is going to be uncoverfMl yet more and 



396 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 118. 

more so that to tell you truly, Mr. Ironside, I am in some fear 
lest my profession should, in a little, become wholly unnecessary. 
I must here explain to you a small covering, if I may call it so, 
or rather an ornament for the neck, which you have not yet taken 
notice of. This consists of a narrow lace, or a small skirt of fine 
ruffled linen, which runs along the upper part of the stays before, 
and crosses the breasts, without rising to the shoulders ; and 
being, as it were, a part of the tucker, yet kept in use, is, there- 
fore, by a particular name, called the modesty-piece. Now, sir, 
what I have to communicate to you at present is, that at a late 
meeting of the stripping ladies, in which were present several 
eminent toasts and beauties, it was resolved for the future to 
lay the modesty-piece wholly aside. It is intended, at the same 
time, to lower the stays considerably before, and nothing but the 
unsettled weather has hindered this design from being already 
put in execution. Some few, indeed, objected to this last im- 
provement, but were over-ruled by the rest, who alledged it was 
their intention, as they ingeniously expressed it, to level their 
breast-works entirely, and to trust to no defence but their own 
virtue. 

" I am, sir, 
" (if you please,) your secret servant, 

" Leonilla Figleaf." 

"dear sir, 
" As by name, and duty bound, I yesterday brought in a prey 
of paper for my patron's dinner, but, by the forwardness of his 
paws, he seemed ready to put it into his own mouth, which does 
not enough resemble its prototypes, whose throats are open se- 
pulchres. I assure you, sir, unless he gapes wider, he will sooner 
be felt than heard. Witness my hand, 

" Jackall." 



No. 118. j THE GUARDIAN. 39? 

TO NESTOR IRONSIDE ESQ. 

" Sage Nestor, 

" Lions being esteemed by naturalists the most generous of 
beasts, the noble and majestic appearance they make in poetry, 
wherein they so often represent the hero himself, made me al- 
ways think that name very ill applied to a profligate set of men, 
at present going about seeking whom to devour ; and though I 
cannot but acquiesce in your account of the derivation of that 
title to them, it is with great satisfaction I hear you are about 
to restore them to their former dignity, by producing one of that 
species so public spirited, as to roar for reformation of manners. 
I will roar (says the clown in Shakespear) that it will do any 
man's heart good to hear me ; I will roar, that I will make the 
duke say, let him roar again, let him roar again. Such success 
and such applause I do not question but your lion will meet with, 
whilst, like that of Sampson, his strength shall bring forth sweet- 
ness, and his entrails abound with honey. 

" At the same time that I congratulate with the republic of 
beasts upon this honour done to their king, I must condole with 
us poor mortals, who, by distance of place, are rendered incapa- 
ble of paying our respects to him, with the same assiduity as 
those who are ushered into his presence by the discreet Mr. 
Button. Upon this account, Mr. Ironside, I am become a suitor 
to yp>u, to constitue an out-riding lion ; or if you please, a jack- 
all or two, to receive and remit our homage in a more particular 
manner than is hitherto provided. As it is, our tenders of duty 
every now and then miscarry by the way, at least the natural 
self-love that makes us unwilling to think any thing that comes 
from us worthy of contempt, inclines us to believe so. Methinks 
it wore likewise necessary to specify, by what means a present 
from a fair hand may reach his brindled majesty, the place 



298 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 110 

of his residence being very unfit for a lady's personal appear- 
ance. 

" I am your most constant reader and admirer, 

" N. K." 

Dear. Nestor, 
" It is a well-known proverb, in a certain part of this king- 
ion; , l Love me, love my dog; ' and I hope you will take it as a 
mark of my respect for your person, that I here bring a bit for 
your lion." * * * 

What follows being secret history, it will be printed in other 
papers ; wherein the lion will publish his private intelligence. 



No. 119. TUESDAY, JULY 28. 



poetaruni veniet manus, auxilio qrne 

Sit mihi Hok. 



There is nothing which more shows the want of taste and 
discernment in a writer, than the decrying of any author in gross, 
especially of an author who has been the admiration of multitudes, 
and that too in several ages of the world. This, however, is the 
general practice of all illiterate and undistinguishing critics. 
Because Homer, and Virgil, and Sophocles have been commend- 
ed by the learned of all times, every scribbler, who has no relish 
of their beauties, gives himself an air of rapture when he speaks 
of them. But as he praises these he knows not why, there are 
others whom he depreciates with the same vehemence and upon 
the same account. We may see after what a different manner 
Strada proceeds in his judgment on the Latin poets ; for I in- 
tend to publish, in this paper, a continuation of that Prolusion 



No. 119.] THE GUARDIAN. 399 

which was the subject of the last Thursday.* I shall therefore 
give my reader a short account, in prose, of every poem which 
was produced in the learned assembly there described ; and if he 
is thoroughly conversant in the works of those ancient authors, 
he will see with how much judgment every subject is adapted to 
the poet who makes use of it, and with how much delicacy every 
particular poet's way of writing is characterised in the censure 
that is passed upon it. Lucan's representative was the first who 
recited before the august assembly. As Lucan was a Spaniard, 
his poem does honour to that nation, which, at the same time, 
makes the romantic bravery in the hero of it more probable. 

Alphonso was the governor of a town invested by the Moors 
During the blockade, they made his only son their prisoner, whom 
they brought before the walls, and exposed to his fatheo's sight, 
threatening to put him to death if he did not immediately give 
up the town. The father tells them if he had an hundred sons, 
he would rather see them all perish than do an ill action, or be- 
tray his country. ' But, (says he) if you take a pleasure in de- 
stroying the innocent, you may do it if you please : behold a 
sword for your purpose.' Upon which he threw a sword from 
the wall, returned to his palace, and was able, at such a juncture, 
to sit down to the repast, which was prepared for him. He was 
soon raised by the shouts of the enemy and the cries of the be- 
sieged. Upon returning again to the walls, he saw his son lying 
in the pangs of death ; but far from betraying any weakness at 
such a spectacle, he upbraids his friends for their sorrow, and 
returns to finish his repast. 

Upon the recital of this story, which is exquisitely drawn up 

in Lucan's spirit and language, the whole assembly declared then 

opinion of Lucan in a confused murmur. The poem was praised 

or censured according to the prejudices which every one had 

* No. 115, & for the conclusion No. 122. — * 



400 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 119 

conceived in favour or disadvantage of the author. These were 
so very great, that some had placed him in their opinions above 
the highest, and others beneath the lowest of the Latin poets. 
Most of them, however, agreed, that Lucan's genius was wonder- 
fully great, but at the same time too haughty and headstrong to 
be governed by art, and that his style was like his genius, learn- 
ed, bold, and lively, but withal too tragical and blustering. In 
a word, that he chose rather a great than a just reputation ; to 
which they added, that he was the first of the Latin poets who 
deviated from the purity of the Roman language. 

The representative of Lucretius told the assembly, that they 
should soon be sensible of the difference between a poet who was 
a native of Rome, and a stranger who had been adopted to it * 
after which he entered upon his subject, which I find exhibited 
to my hand in a speculation of one of my predecessors.* 

Strada, in the person of Lucretius, gives an account of a chi 
merical correspondence between two friends by the help of a 
certain loadstone, which had such a virtue in it, that if it touched 
two several needles, when one of the needles so touched began 
to move, the other, though at never so great a distance, moved at 
the same time, and in the same manner. He tells us, that the 
two friends, being each of them possessed of one of these needles, 
made a kind of dial-plate, inscribing it with the four and twenty 
letters, in the same manner as the hours of the day are marked 
upon the ordinary dial-plate. They then fixed one of the needles 
on each of these plates in such a manner that it could move round 
without impediment, so as to touch any of the four and twenty 
letters. Upon their separating from one another into distant 
countries, they agreed to withdraw themselves punctually into 
their closets at a certain hour of the day, and to converse with 

tt V. Spectator 241, by Addison, who copies this whole paragraph ver- 
batim from himself. — * 



No. 119.] THE GUARDIAN. 401 

one another by means of this their invention. Accordingly when 
they were some hundred miles asunder, each of them shut him- 
self up in his closet at the time appointed, and immediately cast 
his eye upon his dial-plate. If he had a mind to write any thing 
to his friend, he directed his needle to every letter that formed 
the words which he had occasion for, making a little pause at the 
end of every word or sentence, to avoid confusion. The friend, 
in the mean while, saw his own sympathetic needle moving of it- 
self to every letter which that of his correspondent pointed at : 
by this means they talked together across a whole continent, and 
conveyed their thoughts to one another in an instant over cities 
or mountains, seas or deserts. 

The whole audience were pleased with the artifice of the poet 
who represented Lucretius, observing very well how he had laid 
asleep their attention to the simplicity of his style in some verses, 
and to the want of harmony in others, by fixing their minds to 
the novelty of his subject, and to the experiment" which he re- 
lated. Without such an artifice they were of opinion that no- 
thing would have sounded more harsh than Lucretius's diction 
and numbers. But it was plain that the more learned part of 
the assembly were quite of another mind. These allowed that 
it was peculiar to Lucretius above all other poets, to be always 
doing or teaching something, that no other style was so proper 
to teach in, or gave a greater pleasure to those who had a true 
relish for the Roman tongue. They added further, that if Lu- 
cretius had not been embarrassed with the difficulty of his mat- 
ter, and a little led away by an affectation of antiquity, there 
could not have been any thing more perfect than his poem. 

Claudian succeeded Lucretius, having chosen for his subject 
the famous contest between the nightingale and the lutanist, 

a To the novelty — and to the experiment — it should be on, in both 
places. 



402 THE GUARDIAN. |N°- -B^ 

which every one is acquainted with, especially since Mr. Philips 
has so finely improved that hint in one of his pastorals. 

He had no sooner finished, but the assembly rung with ac- 
clamations made in his praise. His first beauty, which every one 
owned, was the great clearness and perspicuity which appeared 
in the plan of his poem Others were wonderfully charmed with 
the smoothness of his verse, and the flowing of his numbers, in 
which there were none of those elisions and cuttings-off so fre- 
quent in the works of other poets. There were several, however, 
of a more refined judgment, who ridiculed that infusion of for- 
eign phrases with which he had corrupted the Latin tongue, and 
spoke with contempt of the equability of his numbers, that cloyed 
and satiated the ear for want of variety : to which they likewise 
added a frequent and unseasonable affectation of appearing sono- 
rous and sublime. 

The sequel of- this prolusion shall be the work of another 
day. a 



No. 120. WEDNESDAY, JULY 29. 



-Nothing lovelier can be found 



In woman, than to study household good, 

And good works in her husband to promote.— Milton. 

A BIT FOR THE LION. 

" SIR, 

" As soon as you have set up your unicorn, b there is no que» 
tion but the ladies will make him push very furiously at the 
men ; for which reason I think it is good to be beforehand with 
them, and make the lion roar aloud at female irregularities 

• V. Strada, lib. ii. proL 6.—* b V. No. 114.—* 



K°- 120 -J THE TATLER. 403 

Among these, I wonder how their Gaming has so long escaped 
your notice. You who converse with the sober family of the 
Lizards, are, perhaps, a stranger to these viragos ; but what 
would you say, should you see a Sparkler shaking her elbow for 
a whole night together, and thumping the table with a dice-box ? 
Or, how would you like to hear the good widow-lady herself re- 
turning to her house at midnight, and alarming the whole street 
with a most enormous rap, after having sat up until that time at 
crimp or ombre ? Sir, I am the husband of one of the female 
gamesters, and a great loser by it, both in my rest and my 
pocket. As my wife reads your papers, one upon this subject 
night be of use both to her, and 

" Your humble servant." 

1 should ill deserve the name of Guardian, did I not caution 
all my fair wards against a practice, which, when it runs to ex- 
cess, is the most shameful, but one, that the female world can fall 
into. The ill consequences of it are more than can be contained 
in this paper. However, that I may proceed in method, I shall 
consider them, first as they relate to the mind ; secondly, as they 
relate to the body. 

Could we look into the mind of a female gamester, we should 
see it full of nothing but trumps and mattadores. Her slumbers 
are haunted with. kings, queens, and knaves. The day lies heavy 
upon her, until the play-season returns, when, for half a dozen 
hours together, all her faculties are employed in shuffling, cut- 
ting, dealing, and sorting out a pack of cards, and no ideas to be 
discovered in a soul which calls itself rational, excepting little 
square figures of painted and spotted paper. Was the under- 
standing, that divine part in our composition, given for such an 
use ? Is it thus we improve the greatest talent human nature is 
endowed with ? What would a superior being think, were he 



404 THE TATLER. [No. 120 

shown this intellectual faculty in a female gamester, and, at the 
same time, told that it was by this she was distinguished from 
biutes, and alliei to angels ? 

When our women thus fill their imaginations with pips and 
counters, I cannot wonder at the story I have lately heard of a 
new-born child that was marked with the five of clubs. 

Their passions suffer no less by this practice than their un- 
derstandings and imaginations. What hope and fear, joy and 
anger, sorrow and discontent, break out all at once in a fair as- 
sembly, upon so noble an occasion as that of turning up a card ? 
Who can consider, without a secret indignation, that all those af- 
fections of the mind which should be consecrated to their chil- 
dren, husbands and parents, are thus vilely prostituted and thrown 
away upon a hand at loo ? For my own part, I cannot but be 
grieved, when I se a fine woman fretting and bleeding inwardly 
from such trivial motives ; when I behold the face of an angel 
agitated and discomposed by the heart of a fury. 

Our minds are of such a make, that they naturally give them- 
selves up to every diversion which they are much accustomed to, 
and we always find that play, when followed with assiduity, en- 
grosses the whole woman. She quickly grows uneasy in her own 
family, takes but little pleasure in all the domestic innocent en- 
dearments of life, and grows more fond of Pam than of her hus- 
band. My friend Theophrastus, the best of husbands and of 
fathers, has often complained to me, with tears in his eyes, of 
the late hours he is forced to keep if he would enjoy his wife's 
conversation. When she returns to me with joy in her face, it 
does not arise, says he, from the sight of her husband, but from 
the good luck she has at cards. On the contrary, says he, if 
she has been a loser, I am doubly a sufferer by it. She comes 
home out of humour, is angry with every body, displeased with 
all I can do or saj' , and in reality for no other reason, but bfr 



No. 120.] THE TATLER. 405 

cause she has been throwing away my estate. What charming 
bedfellows and companions for life are men likely to meet with, 
that chuse their wives out of such women of vogue and fashion i 
What a race of worthies, what patriots, what heroes, must we 
expect from mothers of this make ? 

I come, in the next place to consider the ill consequences 
which gaming has on the bodies of our female adventurers. It is 
so ordered, that almost every thing which corrupts the soul, de- 
cays the body. a The beauties of the face and mind are generally 
destroyed by the same means. This consideration should have a 
particular weight with the female world, who were designed to 
please the eye, and attract the regards of the other half of the 
species. Now there is nothing that wears out a fine face like the 
vigils of the card-table, and those cutting passions which naturally 
attend them. Hollow eyes, haggard looks, and pale complex- 
ions, are the natural indications of a female gamester. Her 
morning sleeps are not able to repair her midnight watchings. 
I have known a woman carried off half dead from bassette, and 
have many a time grieved to see a person of quality gliding by 
me in her chair at two o'clock in the morning, and looking like 
a spectre amidst the glare of flambeaux. In short, I never 
knew a thorough-paced female gamester hold her beauty two win- 
ters together. 

But there is still another case in which the body is more en- 
dangered than in the former. All play-debts must be paid in 
specie, or by an equivalent. The man that plays beyond his in- 
come pawns his estate ; the woman must find out something else 
to mortgage when her pin-money is gone : the husband has his 
lands to dispose of, the wife her person. Now, when the female 

* Decays the body. Decay is a verb neuter, and cannot be used transi 
*.»vely. He should nave said — "makes the body ckcay" 



406 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 121. 

body is once dipped? if the creditor be very importunate, 1 
leave my reader to consider the consequences. 



No. 121. THURSDAY, JULY 30. 

Hinc exaudiri gemitus, irseque leonum.— Viro. 

ROARINGS OF THE LION. 
" Old Nestor, 
" Ever since the first notice you gave of the erection of that 
useful monument of yours in Button's coffee-houst,, I have had a 
restless ambition to imitate the renowned London 'prentice, and 
boldly venture my hand down the throat of your lion. The sub- 
ject of this letter is a relation of a club whereof I am a member, 
and which has made a considerable noise of late, I mean the Silent 
Club. The year of our institution is 1694, the number of mem- 
bers twelve, and the place of our meeting is Dumb's Alley in 
Holborn. We look upon ourselves a» the relics of the old Py- 
thagoreans, and have this maxim in common with them, which is 
the foundation of our design, that ' Talking spoils company.' 
The president of our society is one who was born deaf and dumb, 
and owes that blessing to nature, which, in the rest of us, is 
owing to industry alone. I find, upon inquiry, that the greater 
part of us are married men, and such whose wives are remarka- 
bly loud at home : hither we fly for refuge, and enjoy at once the 
two greatest and most valuable blessings, company and retirement. 
When that eminent relation of yours, the Spectator, published 

* Dippped. A cant term, to express the demands which one has on 
the effects of another; as when we say, such an one's estate is dipped, that 
is, in part mortgaged, or made over to his creditor : humorously applied, 
in this place, to the body or person of a female semester. 



No. 121.] THE GUARDIAN. 407 

his weekly papers, and gave us that remarkable account of his 
silence (for you must know, though we do not read, yet we in- 
spect all such useful essays,) we seemed unanimous to invite him 
to partake of our secrecy, but it was unluckily objected, that he 
had just then published a discourse of his at his own club, and 
had not arrived at that happy inactivity of the tongue, which 
we expected from a man of his understanding. You will wonder 
perhaps, how we managed this debate, but it will be easily ac- 
counted for, when I tell you that our fingers are as nimble, an& 
as infallible interpreters of our thoughts, as other men's tongues 
are; yet even this mechanic eloquence is only allowed upon the 
weightiest occasions. We admire the wise institutions of the 
Turks, and other Eastern nations, where all eommands are per- 
formed by officious mutes ; and we wonder that the polite courts 
of Christendom should come so far short of the majesty of the 
barbarians. Ben Jonson has gained an eternal reputation 
among us. by his play called the Silent Woman. Every member 
here is another Morose 1 while the club is sitting, but at home 
may talk as much and as fast as his family occasions require, 
without breach of statute. The advantages we find from this 
quakerlike assembly are many. We consider that the understand- 
ing of man is liable to mistakes, and his will fond of contradictions ; 
that disputes, which are of no weight in themselves, are often 
very considerable in their effects. The disuse of the tongue is 
the only effectual remedy against these. All party concerns, all 
private scandal, all insults over another man's weaker reasons, 
must there be lost, where no disputes arise. Another advantage 
which follows from the first, (and which is very rarely to be met 
with,) is, that we are all upon the same level in conversation. A 
wag of my acquaintance used to add a third, viz. that if ever we 
debate, w<? are sure to have all our arguments, at our fingers 
» The name of a character in The Silent "Woman. — *. 



408 THE GUARDIAN. [^0. 121 

ends. Of all Longinus's remarks, we are most enamoured with 
that excellent passage, where he mentions Ajax's silence as one 
of the noblest instances of the sublime, and (if you will allow me 
to be free with a namesake of yours) I should think that the ever- 
lasting story-teller Nestor, had he been likened to the ass instead 
of our hero, he had suffered less by the comparison. 

" I have already described the practice and sentiments of 
this society, and shall but barely mention the report of the neigh- 
bourhood, that we are not only as mute as fishes, but that we 
drink like fishes too : that we are like the Welchman's owl, 
though we do not sing, we pay it off with thinking : others take 
us for an assembly of disaffected persons, nay, their zeal to the 
government has carried them so far as to send, last week, a party 
of constables to surprise us : you may easily imagine how exactly 
we represented the Roman senators of old, sitting with majestic 
silence, and undaunted at the approach of an army of Gauls. If 
you approve of our undertaking, you need not declare, it to the 
world : your silence shall be interpreted as consent given to the 
honourable body of mutes, and in particular to 

" Your humble servant, 

" Ned Mum." 

" P. S. We have had but one word spoken since the founda- 
tion, for which the member was expelled by the old Roman cus- 
tom of bending back the thumb. He had just received the news 
of the battle of Hochstat, 1 and being too impatient to communi 
cate his joy, was unfortunately betrayed into a lapsus lingua. 
We acted on the principles of the Roman Manlius ; and though 
we approved of the cause of his error as just, we condemned the 
effect as a manifest violation of his duty." 

1 Better known as the battle of Blenheim. — Carefully as Addison seem? 
to avoid politics in these papers, he cannot always keep back the Whig 
— G. 



•N"- 121-1 THE GUARDIAN. 409 

I never could have thought a dumb man would have roared 
so well out of my lion's mouth. My next pretty correspondent, 
like Shakespear's lion in Pyramus and Thisbe, roars an it were 
any nightingale. 

July 28, 1713. 
" Mr. Ironside, 

" I was afraid at first you were only in jest, and had a mind 
to expose our nakedness for the diversion of the town ; but since 
I see that you are in good earnest, and have infallibility of your 
side, I cannot forbear returning my thanks to you for the care you 
take of us, having a friend who has promised me to give my let- 
ters to the lion, till we can communicate our thoughts to you 
through our own proper vehicle. Now you must know, dear sir, 
that if you do not take care to suppress this exorbitant growth 
of the female chest, all that is left of my waist must inevitably 
perish. It is at this time reduced to the depth of four inches, by 
what I have already made over to my neck. But if the stripping 
design, mentioned by Mrs. Figleaf yesterday, should take effect, 
sir, I dread to think what it will come to. In short, there is no 
help for it, my girdle and all must go. This is the naked truth of 
the matter. Have pity on me then, my dear G-uardian, and pre- 
serve me from being so inhumanly exposed. I do assure you 
that I follow your precepts as much as a young woman can, who 
will live in the world without being laughed at. I have no 
hooped petticoat, and when I am a matron will wear broad 
tuckers whether you succeed or no. If the flying project takes, I 
intend to be the last in wings, being resolved in every thing to 
behave myself as becomes 

" Your most obedient ward." 



yol. iv. — 18 



410 THE GUARDIAN. [No 122, 

No. 122. FRIDAY, JULY 31. 

Nee magls expressi vultus per ahenea signa.— -Hor. 

That I may get out of debt with the public as fast as I can, 
I shall here give them the remaining part of Strada's criticism 
on the Latin heroic poets. My readers may see the whole work 
in the three papers numbered 115, 119, 122. Those who are 
acquainted with the authors themselves, cannot but be {/leased 
to see them so justly represented ; and as for those who have 
never perused the originals, they may form a judgment of them 
from such accurate and entertaining copies. The whjle piece 
will show, at least, how a man of genius (and none else snould 
sail himself a critic) can make the driest art a pleasing amuse- 
ment. 

THE SEQUEL OF STRADA'S PROLUSION. 

The poet who personated Ovid gives an account of the chry- 
so-magnet, or of the loadstone which attracts gold, after the same 
manner as the common loadstone attracts iron. The author, 
that he might express Ovid's way of thinking, derives this virtue 
to the chryso-magnet from a poetical metamorphosis. 

1 As I was sitting by a well, (says he) when I was a boy, 
my ring dropped into it, when immediately my father fastening 
a certain stone to the end of a line, let it down into the well. 
It no sooner touched the surface of the water, but the ring leap- 
ed up from the bottom, and clung to it in such a manner, that 
he drew it out like a fish. My father seeing me wonder at the 
experiment, gave me the following account of it. When Deuca- 
lion and Pyrrha went about the world to repair mankind by 
throwing stones over their heads, the men who rose from them 
differed in their inclinations according to the places on which 



No. 122.] THE GUARDIAN. 411 

the stones fell. Those which fell in the fields became plowmen 
and shepherds. Those which fell into the water produced sailors 
and fishermen. Those that fell among, the woods and forests 
gave birth to huntsmen. Among the rest there were several 
that fell upon mountains, that had mines of gold and silver i'n 
them. This last race of men immediately betook themselves to 
the search of these precious metals ; but nature being displeased 
to see herself ransacked, withdrew these her treasures towards 
the centre of the earth. The avarice of man, however, persisted 
in its former pursuits, and ransacked her inmost bowels in quest 
of the riches which they contained. Nature seeing herself thus 
plundered by a swarm of miners, was so highly incensed, that 
she shook the whole place with an earthquake, and buried the 
men under their own works. The Stygian flames which lay in 
the neighbourhood of these deep mines, broke out at the same 
time with great fury, burning up the whole mass of human 
limbs and earth, until they were hardened and baked into stone. 
The human bodies that were delving in iron mines were con- 
verted into those common loadstones which attract that metal. 
Those which were in search of gold became chryso magnets, and 
still keep their former avarice in their present state of petre- 
faction.' 

Ovid had no sooner given over speaking, but the assembly 
pronounced their opinions of him. Several were so taken with 
his easy .way of writing, and had so formed their tastes upon it, 
that they had no relish for any composition which was not fram- 
ed in the vidian manner. A great many, however, were of 
a contrary opinion, until, at length, it was determined by a plu^ 
rality of voices, that Ovid highly deserved the name of a witty 
man, but that his language was vulgar and trivial, and of the 
nature of those things, which cost no labour in the invention, 
but are ready found out to a man's hand. In the last place 



412 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 122. 

they all agreed, that the greatest objection which lay against 
Ovid, both as to his life and writings, was his having too much 
wit, and that he would have succeeded better in both, had he 
rather checked than indulged it. Statius stood up next with a 
swelling and haughty air, and made the following story the sub- 
ject of his poem. 

A German and a Portuguese, 1 when Vienna a was besieged, 
having had frequent contests of rivalry, were preparing for a 
single duel, when on a sudden the walls were attacked by the 
enemy. Upon this, both the German and Portuguese consented 
to sacrifice their private resentments to the public, and to see 
who could signalize himself most upon the common foe. Each 
of them did wonders in repelling the enemy from different parts 
of the wall. The German was at length engaged amidst a whole 
army of Turks, until his left arm, that held the shield, was 
unfortunately lopped off, and he himself so stunned with a blow 
he had received, that he fell down as dead. The Portuguese seeing 
the condition of his rival, very generously flew to his succour, dis- 
persed the multitudes that were gathered about him, and fought 
over him as he lay upon the ground. In the mean while, the Ger- 
man recovered from his trance, and rose up to the assistance of 
the Portuguese, who a little after had his right-arm, which held 
his sword, cut off by the blow of a sabre. He would have lost 
his life at the same time by a spear which was aimed at his 
back, had not the German slain the person who was aiming 
at him. These two competitors for fame having received such 
mutual obligations now fought in conjunction, and as the one 
was only able to manage the sword and the other the shield, 

i Founded upon the story of the ato Romans in Caesar's e Dmmentaries, 
lib. v. ch. 44.— G. 

2 By the Turks in 1683, an even , ^miliar to the lover of Italian poetry 
by Filicaja's three odes. — G. 



AU 122.] THE GUARDIAN. 413 

made up but one warrior betwixt them The Portuguese cov- 
ered the German, while the German dealt destruction among 
the enemy. At length, finding themselves faint with loss of 
blood, and resolving to perish nobly, they advanced to the most 
shattered part of the wall, and threw themselves down, with a 
huge fragment of it, upon the heads of the besiegers. 

"When Statius ceased, the old factions immediately broke out 
concerning his manner of writing. Some gave him very loud ac- 
clamations, such as he had received in his life-time, declaring 
him the only man who had written in a style which was truly he- 
roical, and that he was above all others in his fame as well as 
in his diction. Others censured him as one who went beyond 
all bounds in his images and expressions, laughing at the cruelty 
of his conceptions, the rumbling of his numbers, and the dread- 
ful pomp and bombast of his expressions. There were, how 
ever, a few select judges, who moderated between both these ex 
tremes, and pronounced upon Statius, that there appeared in his 
style much poetical heat and fire, but withal so much smoke a' 
sullied the brightness of it. That there was a majesty in hiia 
verse, but that it was the majesty rather of a tyrant than of a 
king. That he was often towering among the clouds, but often 
met with the fate of Icarus. In a word, that Statius was among 
the poets, what Alexander the Great is among heroes, a man of 
great virtues and of great faults. 

Virgil was the last of the ancient poets who produced him- 
self upon this occasion. His subject was the story of Theutilla, a 
which being so near that of Judith in all its circumstances, and 
at the same time translated by a very ingenious gentleman in 
one of Mr. Dryden's miscellanies, I shall here give no farther 
account of it. W hen he had done, the whole assembly declared 

a The Rape of Theutilla, imitated from tt > Latin ofFamianStrada By 
Mr. Thomas Yalden. — * 



414 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 123. 

the works of this great poet a subject rather for their admiration 
than for their applause, and that if any thing was wanting in 
Virgil's poetry, it was to be ascribed to a deficiency in the art 
itself, and not in the genius of this great man. There were, 
however, some envious murmurs and detractions heard among 
the crowd, as if there were very frequently verses in him which 
flagged or wanted spirit, and were rather to be looked upon as 
faultless than beautiful. But these injudicious censures were 
heard with a general indignation. 

I need not observe to my learned reader, that the foregoing 
story of the G-erman and Portuguese is almost the same in every 
particular with that of the two rival soldiers in Caesar's commen- 
taries. This prolusion ends with the performance of an Italian 
poet, full of those little witticisms and conceits which have in- 
fected the greatest part of modern poetry. 



No. 123. SATURDAY, AUGUST 1. 



Nil conscire sibi— 



—hie mums aheneus esto 



There are a sort of knights-errant in the world, who, quite 
contrary to those in romance, are perpetually seeking adventures 
to bring virgins into distress, and to ruin innocence. When men 
of rank and figure pass away their lives in these criminal pur- 
suits and practices, they ought to consider that they render them- 
selves more vile and despicable than any innocent man can be 
whatever low station his fortune or birth have placed a him in. 

h Fortune or birth have placed. Though two things are spoken of, 
the disjunctive, or, shews that each is considered singly; the verb, there- 
fore, should not have been in the plural number. But, perhaps, the turn 
of the sentence may admit the subjunctive mood, and t>.en, have placed 
will be right, have in that mood, being singular as well as plural. My 



No, 123.] THE GUARDIAN. 415 

Title and ancestry render a good man more illustrious, but an ill 
one more contemptible. 

Thy father's merit sets thee up to view, 

And plants thee in the fairest point of light, 

To make thy virtues or thy faults conspicuous. — Cato. 

I have often wondered that these deflowerers of innocence, 
though dead to all the sentiments of virtue and honour, are not 
restrained by compassion and humanity. To bring sorrow, con- 
fusion, and infamy, into a family, to wound the heart of a tender 
parent, and stain the life of a poor deluded young woman with a 
dishonour that can never be wiped off, are circumstances, one 
would think, sufficient to check the most violent passion in a 
heart which has the least tincture of pity and good-nature 
Would any one purchase the gratification of a moment at so dear a 
vate ? and entail a lasting misery on others, for such a transient 
k utisfaction to himself % nay, for a satisfastion that is sure, at 
,\ome time or other, to be followed with remorse ? I am led to 
this subject by two letters which came lately to my hands. The 
last of them is, it seems, the copy of one sent by a mother to 
one who hai abused her daughter ; and though I cannot justify 
her sentiments at the latter end of it. they are such as might 
arise in a mind which had not yet recovered its temper after so 
great a provocation. I present the reader with it as I received 
>t, because I think it gives a lively idea of the affliction which a 
*bnd parent suffers on such an occasion. 

1 Sir, sllire » Jul y i^ 13 - 

' The other day I went into the house of one of my tenants, 
whose wife was formerly a servant in our family, and (by my 
grandmother's kindness) had her education with my mother from 

meaning will bo conceived oy reading thus : though his fortune a- birth 
have placed him i>:- as lou, u trdtion as any whatever. 



416 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 123. 

her infancy ; so that she is of a spirit and understanding great> 
ly superior to those of her own rank. I found the poor woman 
in the utmost disorder of mind and attire, drowned in tears, and 
reduced to a condition that looked rather like stupidity than 
grief. She leaned upon her arm over a table, on which lay a 
letter folded up and directed to a certain nobleman, very famous 
in our parts for low intrigue, or (in plainer words) for debauch- 
ing country girls ; in which number is the unfortunate daughter 
of my poor tenant, as I learn from the following letter written 
by her mother. I have sent you here a copy of it, which, made 
public in your paper, may perhaps furnish useful reflections to 
many men of figure and quality, who indulge themselves in a 
passion which they possess but in common with the vilest part of 
mankind.' 

" My Loud, 
" Last night I discovered the injury you have done to my 
daughter. Heaven knows how long and piercing a torment that 
short-lived shameful pleasure of yours must bring upon me : 
upon me, from whom you never received any offence. This con- 
sideration alone should have deterred a noble mind from so base 
and ungenerous an act. But, alas ! what is all the grief that 
must be my sh^re, in comparison of that with which you have 
requited her by whom you have bee-n obliged ? loss of good 
name, anguish of heart, shame and infamy, are what must in, 
evitably fall upon her, unless she gets over them by what is much 
worse, open impudence, professed lewdness, and abandoned pros- 
titution. These are the returns you have made to her, for put' 
ting in your power all her livelihood and dependence, her virtue 
and reputation. my lord, should my son have practised the 
like on one of your daughters ! 1 know you swell with indig- 
nation at the very mention of it, and would think he deserved a 



No. 123.] THE GUARDIAN. 417 

thousand deaths, should he make such an attempt upon the 
honour of your family. It is well, my lord. And is then the 
honour of your daughter, whom still, though it had been vio- 
lated, you might have maintained in plenty, and even luxury, of 
greater moment to her, than to my daughter hers, whose only 
sustenance it was ? and must my son, void of all the advantages 
of a generous education, must he, I say, consider : and may your 
lordship be excused from all reflection ? Eternal contumely at- 
tend that guilty title which claims exemption from thought, and 
arrogates to its wearers the prerogative of brutes. Ever cursed 
be its false lustre, which could dazzle my poor daughter to her 
undoing. Was it for this that the exalted merits and godlike 
virtues of your great ancestor were honoured with a coronet, 
that it might be a pander to his posterity, and confer a privilege 
of dishonouring the innocent and defenceless ? at this rate the 
laws of rewards should be inverted, and he who is generous and 
good should be made a beggar and a slave ; that industry and 
honest diligence may keep his posterity unspotted, and preserve 
them from ruining virgins, and making whole families unhappy. 
Wretchedness is now become my everlasting portion ! Your 
crime, my lord, will draw perdition even upon my head. I may 
not sue for forgiveness of my own failings and misdeeds, for I 
never can forgive yours; but shall curse you with my dying 
breath, and at the last tremendous day shall hold forth in my 
arms my much wronged child, and call aloud for vengeance on 
her defiler. Under these present horrors of mind, I cosld be 
consent to be your chief tormentor, ever paying you mock reve- 
rence, and sounding in your ears, to your unutterable loathing, the 
empty title which inspired you with presumption to tempt, and 
overawed my daughter to comply. 

" Thus have I given some vent to my sorrow, nar fear I to 
awaken you to repentance, so that your sin may be forgiven • 
vol. iv. — 18* 



418 THE GUARDIAN. |"No 124. 

the divine laws have been broken, but much injury, irreparable 
injury, has been also done to roe, and the just Judge will not 
pardon that until I do, 
" My lord, 

" Your conscience will help you to my name." 



No. 124. MONDAY, AUGUST 3. 

Quid fremat in terris violentius ?— Jut. 
MORE ROARINGS OF THE LION. 

" Mr. Guardian, 

11 Before I proceed to make you my proposals, it will be 
necessary to inform you, that an uncommon ferocity in my coun- 
tenance, together with the remarkable flatness of my nose, and 
extent of my mouth, have long since procured me the name of 
Lion in this our university. 

" The vast emolument that, in all probability, will accrue to 
the public from the roarings of my new erected likeness at But- 
ton's, hath made me desirous of being as like him in that part 
of his character, as I am told I already am in all parts of my 
person. Wherefore I most humbly propose to you, that (as it is 
impossible for this one lion to roar, either long enough or loud 
enough against all the things that are roar-worthy in these realms, 
you would appoint him a sub-lion, as a Prcefectus Provincice, in 
every county in Great-Britain, and 'tis my request, that I may 
be instituted his under-roarer in this university, town, and coun- 
ty of Cambridge, as my resemblance does, in some measure 
claim that I should. 

" I shall follow my metropolitan's example in roaring only 



N° 12 4-] THE G* 1RDIAN. 4l9 

against those enormities that are too slight and trivial for the 
notice or censures of our magistrates, and shall communicate my 
roarings to him monthly, or oftener if occasion requires, to be 
inserted in your papers cum privilegio. 

" I shall not omit giving informations of the improvement or 
decay of punning, and may chance to touch upon the rise and 
fall of tuckers ; but I will roar aloud and spare not, to the terror 
of, at present, a very nourishing society of people called 
Loungers, gentlemen whose observations are mostly itinerant, 
and who think they have already too much good sense of their 
own, to be in need of staying at home to read other people's. 

" I have sir, a raven, that shall serve, by way of Jackall, to 
bring me in provisions, which I shall chaw and prepare for the 
digestion of my principal ; and I do hereby give notice to all un- 
der my jurisdiction, that whoever are willing to contribute to this 
good design, if they will affix their informations to the leg or 
neck of the aforesaid raven or jackall, they will be thankfully 
received by their (but more particularly 

" Your) humble servant, 

From my Den at « Leo the Second." 

College, in Cambridge, 
July 29. 

N. B. The raven won't bite. 

" Mr. Ironside, 
" Hearing that your unicorn is now in hand, and not ques- 
tioning but his horn will prove a cornu-copice to you, I desire 
that in order to introduce it, you will consider the folic wing pro- 



" My wife and I intend a dissertation upon horns ; the prov- 
ince she has chosen is, the planting of them, and I am to treat 
of their growth, improvement, &c. The work is like to swell so 
much upon our hands, that I am afraid we shan't be able to bear 



420 THE GUARDIAN. [ N °- 124. 

the charge of printing it without a subscription wherefore I hope 
you will invite the city into it, and desire those who have any 
thing by them relating to that part of natural history, to com- 
municate it to, 

" Sir, your humble servant, 

" Humphrey Binicorn." 
« Sir, 
" I humbly beg leave to drop a song into your lion's mouth, 
which will very truly make him roar like any nightingale. It is 
fallen into my hands by chance, and is a very fine imitation of 
the works of many of our English lyrics. It cannot but be 
highly acceptable to all those who admire the translations of 
Italian operas. 

I. 

Oh the charming month of May I 
Oh the charming month of May I 
When the breezes fan the treeses 

Full of blossoms fresh and gay 

Full, &C 

II. 

Oh what joys our prospects yield ! 
Charming joys our prospects yield 1 
In a new livery when we see every 
Bush and meadow, tree and field — - 
Bush, <&c. 

III. 
Oh how fresh the morning air ! 
Charming fresh the morning air ! 
When the zephyrs and the heifers 

Their odoriferous breath compare 

Their, <fcc. 

IV. 
Oh how fine our evening walk ! 
Charming fine our evening walk ! 
When the nighting-gale delighting 
With her songs suspends our talk 
With her &o. 



1S<Kl°/ I THE GUARDIAN. 4^1 

V. 

Oh how sweet at night to dream 
Charming sweet at night to dream 1 
On mossy pillows, by the trilloes 

Of a gentle purling stream 

Of a, Ac. 

VI. 
Oh how kind the country lass ! 
Charming kind the country lass ! 
Who, her cow bilking, leaves her milking 

For a green gown upon the grass 

For a, <fcc. 

VII. 

Oh how sweet it is to spy ! 
Charming sweet it is to spy ! 
At the conclusion her confusion, 

Blushing cheeks, and down-cast eye 

Blushing, <fec. 

VIII. 

Oh the cooling curds and cream 1 

Charming cooling curds and cream ! 

When all is over she gives her lover I 

Who on her skimming-dish carves her name — — — 

Who on, &c. 

July 30. 
" Mr. Ironside, 

" I have always been very much pleased with the sight of 
those creatures, which being of a foreign growth, are brought 
into our island for show : I may say, there has not been a tiger, 
leopard, elephant, or hyghgeen, a for some years past, in this na- 
tion, but I have taken their particular dimensions, and am able 
to give a very good description of them. But I must own, 1 
never had a greater curiosity to visit any of these strangers than 
your lion. Accordingly I came yesterday to town being able to 

* Meant probably for hyena. — * 



i22 THE GUARPIAN. [No. 134. 

wait no longer for fair weather ; and made what haste I could to 
Mr. Button's, who readily conducted me to his den of state. He 
is really a creature of as noble a presence as I have seen, he has 
grandeur and good humour in his countenance, which command 
both our love and respect ; his shaggy main and whiskers are 
peculiar graces. In short, I do not question but he will prove a 
worthy supporter of British honour and virtue, especially when 
assisted by the unicorn : you must think I would not wait upon 
him without a morsel to gain his favour, and had provided what 
I hope would have pleased, but was unluckily prevented by the 
presence of a bear, which constantly, as I approached with my 
present, threw his eyes in my way, and stared me out of my res- 
olution. I must not forget to tell you, my younger daughter and 
your ward is hard at work about her tucker, having never from 
her infancy laid aside the modesty-piece. I am, venerable Nes- 
tor, 

" Your friend and humble servant, " P. N." 

" I was a little surprised, having read some of your lion's 
roarings, that a creature of such eloquence should want a tongue, 
but he has other qualifications which make good that deficiency." 



No. 134. FRIDAY, AUGUST 14. 

Matron® praeter faciem nil cernere possrs, 
Csetera, ni Catia est, demissa, veste tegentis. — Hoe. 

My lion having given over roaring for some time, I find that 
several stories have been spread abroad in the country to his dis 
advantage. One of my correspondents tells me, it is confidently 
reported of him, in their parts, that he is silenced by luthority ; 
another informs me, that he hears he was sent for by a messen- 



No 134.] THE GUARDIAN. 423 

ger, who had orders to bring him away with all his papers, and 
that, upon examination, he was found to contain several dangerous 
things in his maw. I must not omit another report which has 
been raised by such as are enemies to me and my lion, namely, 
that he is starved for want of food, and that he has not had a good 
meal's meat for this fortnight. I do hereby declare these reports 
to be altogether groundless ; and since I am contradicting com- 
mon fame, I must likewise acquaint the world, that the story of 
a two hundred pound bank bill being conveyed to me through the 
mouth of my lion, has no foundation of truth in it. The matter 
of fact is this : my lion has not roared for these twelve days past, 
by reason that his prompters have put very ill words in his 
mouth, and such as he could not utter with common honour and 
decency. Notwithstanding the admonitions I have given my 
correspondents, many of them have crammed great quantities 
of scandal down his throat, others have choked him with lewd- 
ness and ribaldry. Some of them have gorged him with so much 
nonsense, that they have made a very ass of him. On Monday 
last, upon examining, I found him an arrant French tory, and 
the day after a virulent whig. Some have been so mischievous 
as to make him fall upon his keeper, and give me very reproach- 
ful language ; but as I have promised to restrain him from hurt- 
ing any man's reputation, so my reader may be assured that I 
myself shall be the last man whom I will suffer him to abuse. 
However, that I may give general satisfaction, I have a design 
of converting a room in Mr. Button's house to the lion's library, 
in which I intend to deposit the several packets of letters and 
private intelligence which I do not communicate to the public. 
These manuscripts will in time be very valuable, and may afford 
good lights to future historians who shall give an account of the 
present age. In the mean while, as the lion is an animal which 
bas a particular regard for chastity, it has been observed that 



424 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 134, 

mine has taken delight in roaring very vehemently against the 
untuckered neck, and, as far as I can find by him, is still deter- 
mined to roar louder and louder, till that irregularity be thor- 
oughly reformed. 

" Good Mr. Ironside, 

" I must acquaint you, for your comfort, that your lion is 
grown a kind of bull-beggar among the women where I live 
"When my wife comes home late from cards, or commits any other 
enormity, I whisper in her ear, partly betwixt jest and earnest, 
that ' I will tell the lion of her.' Dear sir, do not let them alone 
till you have made them put on their tuckers again. What can 
be a greater sign, that they themselves are sensible they have 
stripped too far, than their pretending to call a bit of linen 
which will hardly cover a silver groat, their modesty-piece ? It 
is observed, that this modesty-piece still sinks lower and lower, 
and who knows where it will fix at last ? 

" You must know, sir, I am a Turkey merchant, and lived 
several years in a country where the women show nothing but 
their eyes. Upon my return to England, I was almost out of 
countenance to see my pretty countrywomen laying open their 
charms with so much liberality, though at that time many of them 
were concealed under the modest shade of the tucker. I soon 
after married a very fine woman, who always goes in the extre- 
mity of the fashion. I was pleased to think, as every married 
man must, that I should make daily discoveries in the dear crea- 
ture, which were unknown to the rest of the world. But since 
this new airy fashion is come up, every one's eye is as familiar 
with her as mine, for I can positively affirm, that her neck is 
grown eight inches within these three years. And what makes 
me tremble when I think of it, that pretty foot and ancle are 
now exposed to the sight of the whole world, which made my 



No 184.] THE GUARDIAN. 425 

very heart dance within me when I found myself their proprietor. 
As in all appearance the curtain is still rising, I find a parcel of 
rascally young fellows in the neighbourhood are in hopes to be 
presented with some new scene every day. 

" In short, sir, the tables are now quite turned upon me. 
Instead of being acquainted with her person more than other 
men, I have now the least share of it. When she is at home, 
she is continually muffled up, and concealed in mobs, morning 
gowns, and handkerchiefs ; but strips every afternoon to appear 
in public. For ought I can find, when she has thrown aside 
half her clothes, she begins to think herself half dressed. Now, 
sir, if I may presume to say so, you have been in the wrong, to 
think of reforming this fashion, by showing the immodesty of it. 
If you expect to make female proselytes, you must convince them, 
that, if they would get husbands, they must not show all before 
marriage. I am sure, had my wife been dressed before I married 
her as she is at present, she would have satisfied a good half of my 
curiosity. Many a man has been hindered from laying out his 
money on a show, by seeing the principal figures of it hung out 
before the door. I have often observed a curious passenger so 
attentive to these objects which he could see for nothing, that he 
took no notice of the master of the show, who was continually 
crying out, ' Pray gentlemen walk in.' 

" I have told you, at the beginning of this letter, how Maho- 
met's she-disciples are obliged to cover themselves ; you have 
lately informed us, from the foreign newspapers, of the regula- 
tions which the pope is now making among the Roman ladie.v 
in this particular ; and I hope our British dames, notwithstand- 
ing they have the finest skins in the world, will be content to 
show no more of them than what belongs to the face and to the 
neck, properly speaking. Their being fair is no excuse for their 
being naked. 



426 THE GUARDIAN [No. 135 

" You know, sir, that in the beginning of the last century, 
there was a sect of men among us who called themselves Adamites, 
and appeared in public without clothes. This heresy may spring 
up in the other sex, if you do not put a timely stop to it. there 
being so many in all public places, who show so great an inclina- 
tion to be Evites. 

" I am, sir," &c. 



No. 135. SATURDAY, AUGUST 15. 



Virtute me involvo- 



A good conscience is to the soul what health is to the body : 
it preserves a constant ease and serenity within us, and more than 
countervails all the calamities and afflictions which can possibly 
befal us. I know nothing so hard for a generous mind to get 
over as calumny and reproach, apad cannot find any method of 
quieting the soul under them, besides this single one, of our 
being conscious to ourselves that we do not deserve them. 

I have been always mightily pleased with that passage in Don 
Quixote, where the fantastical knight is represented as loading a 
gentleman of sense with praises and eulogiums. Upon which the 
gentleman makes this reflection to himself : ' How grateful is 
praise to human nature ! I cannot forbear being secretly pleased 
with the commendations I receive, though I am sensible it is a 
madman bestows them on me.' In the same manner, though we 
are often sure that the censures which are passed upon us, are 
uttered by those who know nothing of us, and have neither means 
nor abilities to form a right judgment of us, we cannot forbear 
being grieved at what they say. 



No- 135.] THE GXTARDIA'J. 427 

In order to heal this infirmity, which is so natural to the best 
and wisest of men, I have taken a particular pleasure in observ- 
ing the conduct of the old philosophers, how they bore themselves 
up against the malice and detraction of their enemies. 

1 The way to silence calumny,' says Bias. ' is to be always 
exercised in such things as are praiseworthy.' Socrates, after 
having received sentence, told his friends that he had always 
accustomed himself to regard truth and not censure, and he was 
not troubled at his condemnation, because he knew himself free 
from guilt. It was in the same spirit that he heard the accusa- 
tions of his two great adversaries, who had uttered against him 
the most virulent reproaches. ' Anytus and Melitus,' says he, 
1 may procure sentence against me, but they cannot hurt me.' 
This divine philosopher was so well fortified in his own innocence, 
that he neglected all the impotence of evil tongues which were 
engaged in his destruction. This was properly the support of a 
good conscience, that contradicted the reports which had been 
raised against him, and cleared him to himself. 

Others of the philosophers rather chose to retort the injury 
by a smart reply, than thus to disarm it with respect to them- 
selves. They shew that it stung them, though, at the same time, 
they had the address to make their aggressors suffer with them. 
Of this kind was Aristotle's reply to one who pursued him with 
long and bitter invectives. ' You,' says he, ' who are used to 
suffer reproaches, utter them with delight ; I, who have not been 
used to utter them, take no pleasure in hearing them.' Diogenes 
was still more severe on one who spoke ill of him : * Nobody 
will believe you when you speak ill of me, any more than they 
would believe me should I speak well of you.' 

In these, and many other instances I could produce, the 
bitterness of the answer sufficiently testifies the uneasiness of 
the mind the person was under who made "t. I would rather ad- 



428 THE GU^RDIA,*. [No. 135. 

vise my reader, if he has not, in this case, the secret consolation 
that he deserves no such reproaches as are cast upon him, to fol- 
low the advice of Epictetus. ' If any one speaks ill of thee, 
consider whether he has truth on his side : and if so, reform thy- 
self, that his censures may not affect thee.' When Anaximander 
was told that the very boys laughed at his singing : ' Ay,' says 
he, * then I must learn to sing better.' But of all the sayings of 
philosophers which I have gathered together for my own use on 
this occasion, there are none which carry in them more candour 
and good sense than the two following ones of Plato. Being 
told that he had iu#ny enemies who spoke ill of him, * It is no 
matter,' said he, c I will live so that none shall believe them.' 
Hearing at another time, that an intimate friend of his had 
spoken detractingly of him ; ' I am sure he would not do it,' says 
he, ' if he had not some reason for it.' This is the surest, as 
well as the noblest way, of drawing the sting out of a reproach, 
and the true method of preparing a man for that great and only 
relief against the pains of calumny, c a good conscience.' 

I designed, in this essay, to show, that there is no happiness 
wanting to him who is possessed of this excellent frame of 
mind, and that no person can be miserable who is in the enjoy- 
ment of it ; but I find this subject so well treated in one of 
Dr. South's sermons, that I shall fill this Saturday's paper with 
a passage of it, which cannot but make the man's heart burn 
within him, who reads it with due attention. 

That admirable author,* having shown the virtue ot a good 

a Dr. South was a divine of great eminence in the last age. With sense 
and learning, he had the common infirmity of ingenious men, to value his 
wit above either. The affectation of saying lively things, and the too 
natural occasion, which the times threw in his way, of saying many severe 
ones, have so clouded his reputation, that most men now see him only 
in the light of a petulant, indiscreet writer, who reasoned from prejudice, 
and railed out of vanity or ill nature. The truth however, seems to be, 
that he was a generous man, as well as a fine genius, and that his faults 
both as a man and a writer, (which, indeed, are glaring enough) sprung 
out of these characters, ill directed, and uncontrolled. 



[No. 135. THE GUARDIAN. 429 

conscience in supporting a man under the greatest trials and dif- 
ficulties of life, concludes with representing its force and efficacy 
in the hour of death. 

1 The third and last instance, in which, above all others, this 
t .nfidence towards Grod does most eminently shew and exert 
/ self, is at the time of death. Which surely gives the grand 
iportunity of trying both the strength and worth of everv 
principle. When a man shall be just about to quit the stage of 
this world, to put off his mortality, and to deliver up his last ac- 
counts to Grod ; at which sad time his memory shall serve him 
for little else, but to terrify him with a frightful review of his 
past life, and his former extravagancies, stripped of all their 
pleasure, but retaining their guilt. What is it then that can 
promise him a fair passage into the other world, or a comfortable 
appearance before his dreadful Judge, when he is there ? not all 
the friends and interests, all the riches and honours under heaven, 
can speak so much as a word for him, or one word of comfort to 
him in that condition ; they may possibly reproach, but they 
cannot relieve him. 

* No ; at this disconsolate time, when the busy tempter shall 
be more than usually apt to vex and trouble him, and the pains 
of a dying body to hinder and discompose him, and the settle- 
ment of worldly affairs to disturb and confound him ; and in a 
word, all things conspire to make his sick bed grievous and un- 
easy ; nothing can then stand up against all these ruins, and 
speak life in the midst of death, but a clear conscience. 

1 And the testimony of that shall make the comforts of heaven 
descend upon his weary head, like a refreshing dew, or shower 
upon a parched ground. It shall give him some lively earnests, 
and secret anticipations of his approaching joy. It shall bid 
his soul go out of the body undauntedly, and lift up its head 
with confidence before saints and angels. Surely the comfort 



430 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 136 

which it conveys at this season, is something bigger than the ca- 
pacities of mortality, mighty and unspeakable, and not to be 
understood till it comes to be felt. 

' And now, who would not quit all the pleasures, and trash, 
and trifles, which are apt to captivate the heart of man, and pur- 
sue the greatest rigours of piety, and austerities of a good life, 
to purchase to himself such a conscience, as at the hour of death, 
when all the friendship in the world shall bid him adieu, and the 
whole creation turn its back upon him, shall dismiss the soul, 
and close his eyes with that blessed sentence, ' Well done thou 
good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord ! " 



No. 136. MONDAY, AUGUST 17. 

Noctes atque dies patet atri janua ditis. — Virg. 

Some of our quaint moralists have pleased themselves with 
an observation, that there is but one way of coming into the 
world, but a thousand to go out of it. I have seen a fanciful 
dream written by a Spaniard, in which he introduces the per- 
son of death metamorphosing himself, like another Proteus, into 
innumerable shapes and figures. To represent the fatality of 
fevers and agues, with many other distempers and accidents that 
destroy the life of man ; death enters first of all in a body of 
fire, a little after he appears like a man of snow, then r'/is about 
the room like a cannon ball, then lies on the table like a gilded 
pill : after this, he transforms himself, of a sudden, into a sword, 
then dwindles successively to a dagger, to a bodkin, to a crooked 
pin, to a needle, to a^hair. The Spaniard's design, by this alle- 
gory, was to show the many assaults to which the life of man is 
exposed, and to let his reader see, that there was scarce any thing 



No 136.] THE GUAR. DIAN. 431 

in nature so very mean and inconsiderable, but that it was able 
to a overcome him, and lay his head in the dust. I remember 
Monsieur Paschal, in his reflections on Providence, has this ob- 
servation upon Cromwell's death. * That usurper,' says he, ' who 
had destroyed the royal family in his own nation, who had made 
all the princes of Europe tremble, and struck a terror into Rome 
itself, was at last taken out of the world by a fit of the gravel. 
A.n atom, a grain of sand,' says he, that would have been of no 
significancy in any other part of the universe, being lodged in 
such a particular place, was an instrument of Providence to bring 
about the most happy revolution, and to remove front the face of 
the earth this troubler of mankind.' In short, swarms of distem- 
pers are every where hovering over us ; casualties, whether at 
home or abroad, whether we wake or sleep, sit or walk, are 
planted about us in ambuscade ; every element, every climate, 
every season, all nature is full of death. 

There are more casualties incident to men than women, as 
battles, b sea-voyages, with several dangerous trades and profes- 
sions, that often prove fatal to the practitioners. I have seen a 
treatise written by a learned physician on the distempers peculiar 
to those who work in stone or marble. It has been, therefore, 
observed by curious men, that upon a strict examination, there 
are more males brought into the world than females. Provi- 
dence, to supply this waste in the species, has made allowances 
for it, by a suitable redundancy in the male sex. Those who 
have made the nicest calculations have found, I think, that taking 

a The construction had been easier and more exact, if the author had 
said — there ivas scarce any thing in nature, however mean and inconsiderable, 
which was not able to, <fcc. 

b As battles, &c. Battles, sea-voyages, trades, and professions, are not 
themselves casualties, but situations of life, from which they arise. The 
author should have said — stich, for instance, as befal them in battles, sea- 
voyages, or in several dangerous trades, &c. Or, it might be sufficient to 
change as to from. 



432 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 136. 

one year with another, there are about twenty hoys produced to 
nineteen girls. This observation is so well grounded, that 
I will at any time lay five to four, that there appear more male 
than female infants in every weekly bill of mortality. And what 
can be a more demonstrative argument for the superintendency of 
Providence ? 

There are casualties incident to every particular station and 
way of life. A friend of mine was once saying, that he fancied 
there would be something new and diverting in a country bill of 
mortality. Upon communicating this hint to a gentleman who 
was then going down to his seat, which lies at a considerable dis- 
tance from London, he told me he would make a collection as well 
as he could, of the several deaths that had happened in his coun- 
try for the space of a whole year, and send them up to me in the 
form of such a bill as I mentioned. The reader will here see 
that he has been as good as his promise. To make it the more 
entertaining, he has set down, among the real distempers, some 
imaginary ones, to which the country people ascribed the deaths 
of some of their neighbours. I shall extract out of them such 
only as seem almost peculiar to the country, laying aside fevers, 
apoplexies, small-pox, and the like, whjch they have in common 
with towns and cities. 

Of a six-bar gate, fox-hunters 

Of a quickset hedge 

Two duels, viz. 

First, between a frying-pan and a pitchfork 

Second, between a joint- stool and a brown jug 

Bewitched 

Of an evil tongue 

Crossed in love 

Broke his neck in robbing a henroost 



Na. 186.1 THE GUARDIAN. 433 

Cut finger turned to a gangrene by an old gen- 
tlewoman of the parish 

Surfeit of curds and cream 

Took cold sleeping at church 

Of a sprain in his shoulder, by saving his dog 
at a bull-baiting 

Lady B 's cordial water 

Knocked down by a quart bottle 

Frighted out of his wits by a headless dog 
with saucer eyes 

Of October 

Broke a vein in bawling for a knight of the shire 

Old women drowned upon trial of witchcraft 

Climbing a crow's nest 

Chalk and green apples 

Led into a horse-pond by a Will of the Wisp 
* Died of a fright in an exercise of the trained bands 

Over-eat himself at a house warming 

By the parson's bull 

Vagrant beggars worried by the Squire's house-dog 

Shot by mistake 

Of a mountebank doctor 

Of the Merry Andrew 

Caught her death in a wet ditch 

Old nge 

Foul distemper 



VOL. IV. 19 



431 THE GUARDIAN. f^X 18* 



No. 137. TUESDAY, AUGUST 18. 



— sanctus haberi 



Justitiaeque tenax, factis dictisque mereris ? 
Agnosco procerem Juv. 

Horace, Juvenal, Boileau, and indeed the greatest writers in 
almost every age, have exposed, with all the strength of wit and 
good sense, the vanity of a man's valuing himself upon his ances- 
tors, and endeavoured to show that true nobility consists in virtue, 
not in birth. With submission, however, to so many great au- 
thorities, I think they have pushed this matter a little too far. 
We ought in gratitude to honour the posterity of those who have 
raised either the interest or reputation of their country, and by 
whose labours we a ourselves are more happy, wise or virtuous, 
than we should have been without them. Besides, naturally 
speaking, a man bids fairer for greatness of soul, who is the de- 
scendant of worthy ancestors, and has good blood in his veins, than 
one who is come of an ignoble and obscure parentage. 1 For these 
reasons, I think a man of merit, who is derived from an illustrious 
une, is yctj justly to be regarded more than a man of equal merit 
who has no claim to hereditary honours. Nay, I think those who 
are indifferent in themselves, and have nothing else to distinguish 
them but the virtues of their forefathers, are to be looked upon 
with a degree of veneration even upon that account, and to be 

1 Dante comes nearer to the truth : 

Rade volte risurge per li rami 

L'umana probitade ; questo vuole 

Quei chela da perche da lui si chiami.— Purg. vil 121.— G. 



a — Who have raised — and by whose labours we, &c. This construction 
is, indeed, in frequent use, but not so natural as the following world have 
been — " who have raised — and who, by their labours, have made ourselves more 
happy," &c. The mind loves to proceed in the construction in which it set 
out, and suffers a kind of torture in having another presently forced upon 
it. 



No. 137.] THE GUARDIAN. 435 

more respected than the common run of men who are of low and 
vulgar extraction. 

After having thus ascribed due honours to birth and parent- 
age, I must, however, take notice of those who arrogate to them- 
selves more honours than are due to them upon this account. 
The first are such who are not enough sensible that vice and ig- 
norance taint the blood, and that an unworthy behaviour degrades 
and disennobles a man, in the eye of the world, as much as birth 
and family aggrandize and exalt him. 

The second are those who believe a new man of an elevated 
merit is not more to be honoured than an insignificant and worth- 
less man who is descended from a long line of patriots and heroes : 
or, in other words, behold with contempt a person who is such a 
man as the first founder of their family was, upon whose reputa- 
tion they value themselves. 

But I shall chiefly apply myself to those whose quality sits 
uppermost in all their discourses and behaviour. An empty man 
of a great family is a creature that is scarce conversible. You 
read his ancestry in his smile, in his air, in his eye-brow. He 
has, indeed, nothing but his nobility to give employment to his 
thoughts. Rank and precedency are the important points which 
he is always discussing within himself. A gentleman of this turn 
begun a speech in one of King Charles's parliaments : ' Sir, I had 

the honour to be born at a time ' upon which a rough honest 

gentleman took him up short, c I would fain know what that gen- 
tleman means : is there any one in this house that has not had 
the honour to be born as well as himself?' The good sense 
which reigns in our nation has pretty well destroyed this starched 
behaviour among men who have seen the world, and know that 
every gentleman will be treated upon a foot of equality. But 
there are many who have had their education among women, de 



436 THE GIJARDIAN. [No. 13? 

pendants, or flatterers, that lose a all the respect, which would 
otherwise be paid them, by being too assiduous in procuring it. 

My Lord Froth has been so educated in punctilio, that 
he governs himself by a ceremonial in all the ordinary occurren- 
ces of life. He measures out his bow to the degree of the person 
he converses with. I have seen him in every inclination of the 
body, from a familiar nod to the low stoop in the salutation-sign. 
I remember five of us, who were acquainted with one another, 
met together one morning at his lodgings, when a wag of the 
company was saying, it would be worth while to observe how he 
would distinguish us at his first entrance. Accordingly he no 
sooner came into the room, but casting his eye about, ' My Lord 
such a one, (says he) your most humble servant. Sir Richard, 
your humble servant. Your servant, Mr. Ironside. Mr. Duck- 
er, how do you do ? Hah ! Frank, are you there ? 

There is nothing more easy than to discover a man whose 
heart is full of his family. Weak minds that have imbibed a 
strong tincture of the nursery, younger brothers that have been 
brought up to nothing, superannuated retainers to a great house, 
have generally their thoughts taken up with little else. 

I had some years ago an aunt of my own, by name Mrs. 
Martha Ironside, who would never marry beneath herself, and is 
supposed to have died a maid in the fourscorth year of her age. 
She was the chronicle of our family, and passed away the great- 
est part of the last forty years of her life in recounting the anti- 
quity, marriages, exploits, and alliances of the Ironsides. Mru 
Martha conversed generally with a knot of old virgins, who were 
likewise of good families, and had been very cruel all the begin- 
ning of the last century. They were every one of them as proud 

* Many who have had — that lose. To avoid the two unconnected rela- 
tives, who and that — read thus— -many who having had, or, who in c-ov se- 
quence of having had, &c. — lose all the respect. 






Kc 131] THE GUARDIAN. 437 

as Lucifer, but said their prayers twice a day, and in all other 
respects were the best women in the world. If they saw a fine 
petticoat at church, they immediately took to pieces the pedigree 
of her that wore it, and would lift up their eyes to heaven at the 
confidence of the saucy minx, when they found she was an honest 
tradesman's daughter. It is impossible to describe the pious in- 
dignation that would rise in them at the sight of a man who lived 
plentifully on an estate of his own getting. They were trans- 
ported with zeal beyond measure, if they heard of a young wo- 
man's matching into a great family upon account only of her 
beauty, her merit, or her money. In short, there was not a female 
within ten miles of them that was in possession of a gold watch, 
a pearl necklace, or a piece of Mechlin lace, but they examined 
her title to it. My aunt, Martha, used to chide me very fre- 
quently for not sufficiently valuing myself. She would not eat a 
bit all dinner-time, if at an invitation she found she had been 
seated below herself; and would frown upon me for an hour to- 
gether, if she saw me give place to any man under a baronet. 
As I was once talking to her of a wealthy citizen whom she had 
refused in her youth, she declared to me with great warmth, that 
she preferred a man of quality in his shirt to the richest man 
upon the change in a coach and six. She pretended, that our 
family was nearly related by the mother's side to half a dozen 
peers ; but as none of them knew any thing of the matter, we al- 
ways kept it as a secret among ourselves. A little before her 
death she was reciting to me the history of my forefathers ; but 
dwelling a little longer than ordinary upon the actions of Sir Gil- 
bert Ironside, who had a horse shot under him at Edghill fight, I 
gave an unfortunate pish ! and asked, * What was all this to 
me ? ' upon which she retired to her closet, and fell a scribbling 
for three hours together, in which time, as I afterwards found, 
she struck me out of her will, aod left all that she had to my sis 



438 THE GURDIAN. [No. 138 

ter Margaret, a wheedling baggage, that used to be asking ques- 
tions about her great grandfather from morning to night. She 
now lies buried among the family of the Ironsides, with a stone 
over her, acquainting the reader, that she died at the age of 
eighty years, a spinster, and that she was descended of the 
ancient family of the Ironsides. After which follows the genea- 
logy drawn up by her own hand. 



No. 138. WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 19. 

Incenditque aniinum famae venientis amore.— Viro. 

There is nothing which I study so much in the course of 
these my daily dissertations as variety. By this means every one 
of my readers is sure some time or other to find a subject that 
pleases him, and almost every paper has some particular set of 
men for its advocates. Instead of seeing the number of my pa- 
pers every day increasing, they would quickly lie as a drug upon 
my hands, did not I take care to keep up the appetite of my 
guests, and quicken it from time to time by something new and 
unexpected, in short, I endeavour to treat my reader in the 
same manner as Eve does the angel in that beautiful description 
of Milton. 

So saying, with dispatchful looks in haste 
She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent, 
What choice to chuse for delicacy best. 
What order, so contrived as not to mix 
Tastes, not well join'd, inelegant, but bring 
Taste after taste, upheld with kindliest change. 
Whatever earth, all-bearing mother, yields, 
In India east or west, or middle shore, 
In Pontus or the Puni-i coast, or where 
Alcinous reigned, fruit of all kinds, in coat 



No. 138. J THE GUARDIAN. 439 

Rough or smooth rined, or bearded husk, or shell, 
She gathers, tribute large, and on the board 
Heaps with unsparing hand Fifth Book. 

If, by this method, I can furnish out a splendida farrago, ac- 
cording to the compliment lately paid me in a fine poem publish- 
ed among the exercises of the last Oxford act, I have gained the 
end which I propose to myself. 

In my yesterday's paper, I showed how the actions of our an- 
cestors and forefathers should excite us to every thing that is 
great and virtuous ; I shall here observe, that a regard to our 
posterity, and those who are to descend from us, ought to have 
the same kind of influence on a generous mind. A noble soul 
would rather die than commit an action that should make his 
children blush when he is in his grave, and be looked upon as a 
reproach to those who shall live a hundred years after him. On 
the contrary, nothing can be a more pleasing thought to a man 
of eminence, than to consider that his posterity, who lie many 
removes- from him, shall make their boast of his virtues, and be 
honoured for his sake. 

Virgil represents this consideration as an incentive of glory 
to j^Eneas, when, after having shown him the race of heroes who 
were to descend from him, Anchises adds with a noble warmth, 

Et dubitamus adhuc virtutem extendere factis? 

And doubt we yet thro' dangers to pursue 
The paths of honour ? Mr. Dryden. 

Since I have mentioned this passage in Virgil, where 
iEneas was entertained with the view of his great descendants, I 
cannot forbear observing a particular beauty, which I do not 
know that any one has taken notice of. The list which he has 
there drawn up was in general to do honour to the Roman name, 
bu 1 more particularly to compliment Augustus. For this reason, 



440 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 138. 

Anchises, who shows iEneas most of the rest of his descendants 
in the same order that they were to make their appearance in the 
world,* 1 breaks his method for the sake of Augustus, whom he 
singles out immediately after having mentioned Romulus, as the 
most illustrious person who was to rise in that empire which the 
other had founded. He was impatient to describe his posterity 
raised to the utmost pitch of glory, and therefore passes over all 
the rest to come at this great man, whom by this means he im- 
plicitly represents as making the most conspicuous figure among 
them. By this artifice, the poet did not only give his emperor 
the greatest praise he could bestow upon him ; but hindered his 
reader from drawing a parallel, which would have been disadvan- 
tageous to him, had he been celebrated in his proper place, that 
is, after Pompey and Csesar, who each of them eclipsed the other 
in military glory. 

Though there have been finer things spoken of Augustus than 
of any other man, all the wits of his age having tried to out-rival b 
one another on that subject, he never received a compliment, 
which, in my opinion, can be compared, for sublimity of thought, 
to that which the poet here makes him. The English reader 

a In the same order that theg were to make their appearance in the world. 
This sentence is only elliptical in omitting the preposition in; for the re- 
lative, that, is used for which ; and the preposition is omitted in sentences of 
this form, to avoid the ill effect, which a repetition of in would have on the - 
ear. Our language loves these ellipses, in the familiar style, especially; 
and gains this advantage by the use of them, that it emulates the concise- 
ness of those languages, where the case includes the preposition ; as — " eodem 
or dine quo." 

It is true, the perspicuity is not equal, in the two cases ; and, there- 
fore, we do not take this liberty, or we take it with more caution, in the 
solemn style, that is, when we treat matters of importance, or, when we 
would express what we say, with energy. But, in conversation, to which 
the familiar style conforms itself, it is graceful to be concise where there 
is small danger of being obscure. In this case, to insert the preposition, or 
sometimes the relative itself, would be to affect perspicuity, which, too. 
could only serve — "nugis adder e pondus." 

b Tried to out-rival. Ill expressed, and means no more than — tried t* 
out-try. It should be tried to out-go, or exceed, one another 



No. 138. I THE GUARDIAN. . 441 

may see a faint shadow of it in Mr. Dryden's translation, for tha 
original is inimitable. 

Hie vir, hie est, &c. 

But next behold the youth of form divine, 
Caesar himself, exalted in his line ; 
Augustus, promis'd oft, and long foretold, 
Sent to the realm that Saturn rul'd of cli; 
Born to restore a better age of gold. 
Afric, and India, shall his pow'r obey, 
He shall extend his propagated sway 
Beyond the solar year, without the starry way, 
"Where Atlas turns the rolling heavens around : 
And his broad shoulders with their light are crown'd. 
At his foreseen approach, already quake 
The Caspian kingdoms, and Maaotian lake. 
Their seers behold the tempest from afar ; 
And threat'ning oracles denounce the war. 
Nile hears him knocking at his sevenfold gates, 
And seeks his hidden spring, and fears his nephew's fates. 
Nor Hercules more lands or labours knew, 
Not tho' the brazen-footed hind he slew ; 
Freed Erymanthus from the foaming boar, 
And dipp'd his arrows in Lernaean gore. 
Nor Bacchus, turning from his Indian war, 
By tigers drawn triumphant in his car. 
From Nisus top descending on the plains ; 
• "With curling vines around his purple reins. 
And doubt we yet thro' dangers to pursue 
The paths of honour? 

I could show out of other poets the same kind of vision as 
this in Virgil, wherein the chief persons of the poem have been 
entertained with the sight of those who were to descend from 
them ; hut instead of that, I shall conclude with the rabbinical 
story which has in it the oriental way of thinking, and is there- 
fore very amusing. 

' Adam, (say the Rabbins) a little after his creation, was pre- 
sented with a view of all those souls who were to be united to 
vol. iv. — 19* 



442 . THE GUARDIAN. [No. 139 

human bodies, and take their turn after him upon the earth. 
Among others, the vision set before him the soul of David. Our 
great ancestor was transported at the sight of so beautiful an ap- 
parition ; but to his unspeakable grief was informed, that it was 
not to be conversant among men the space of one year. 

Ostendent terris hunc tantum fata, neque ultra 
Esse sinent. 

Adam, to procure a longer life for so fine a piece of human na- 
ture, begged that threescore and ten years (which he heard would 
be the age of man in David's time) might be taken out of his own 
life, and added to that of David. Accordingly (say the Rabbins) 
Adam falls short of a thousand years, which was to have been the 
compleat term of his life, but just so many years as make up the 
life of David. Adam having lived 930 years, and David 70.' 

This story was invented to show the high opinion which the 
Rabbins entertained of this man after God's own heart, whom 
the prophet, who was his own contemporary, could not mention 
without rapture, where he records the last poetical composition- 
&f David, of David the son of Jesse, of the man who was raised 
up on high, of the anointed of the God of Jacob, of the sweet 
psalmist of Israel. 



NO. 139. THURSDAY, AUGUST 20. 

prisca fides facto, sed fama perennis. — Ties. 



" Most "Venerable Nestor, 
" I find that every body is very much delighted with the 
voice of your lion. His roarings against the tucker have been 
most melodious and emphatical. It is to be hoped, that the 



N"0. 139. J THE GUARDIAN. 443 

ladies will take warning by them, and not provoke him to greater 
outrages ; for I observe, that your lion, as you yourself have told 
us, is made up of mouth and paws. Eor my own part, I have 
long considered with myself how I might express my gratitude 
to this noble animal that has so much the good of our country at 
his heart. After many thoughts on this subject, I have at length 
resolved to do honour to him, by compiling a history of his 
species, and extracting out of all authors whatever may redound 
to his reputation. In the prosecution of this design, I shall have 
no manner of regard to what iEsop has said upon the subject, 
whom I look upon to have been a republican, by the unworthy 
treatment which he often gives to this king of beasts, and whom, 
if I had time, I could convict of falsehood and forgery in almost 
every matter of fact which he has related of this generous animal. 
Your romance writers are likewise a set of men whose authority 
I shall build upon very little in this case. They all of them are 
born with a particular antipathy to lions, and give them no more 
quarter than they do giants, wherever they chance to meet them. 
There is not one of the seven champions, but when he has no- 
thing else to do, encounters with a lion, and you may be sure al- 
ways gets the better of him. In short, a knight-errant lives in a 
perpetual state of enmity with this noble creature, and hates him 
more than all things upon the earth, except a dragon. Had the 
stories recorded of them by these writers been true, the whole 
species would have been destroyed before now. After having 
thus renounced all fabulous authorities, I shall begin my me- 
moirs of the lion with a story related of him by Aulus Gellius 
and extracted by him out of Dion Cassius, an historian of un 
doubted veracity. It is the famous story of Androcles the So- 
man slave, which I premise for the sake of my learned reader, 
who needs go no further in it if he has read it already. 

" Androcles was the slave of a noble Roman who was pro- 



444 THE GUARDIAN. t No - 1S9 

consul of Afric. He had been guilty of a fault, for which his 
master would have put him to death, had not he found an oppor- 
tunity to escape out of his hands, and fled a into the deserts of 
Nuinidia. As he was wandering among the barren sands, and 
almost dead with heat and hunger, he saw a cave in the side of 
a rock. He Went into it, and finding at the further end of it a 
place to sit down upon, rested there for some time. At length, 
to his great surprise, a huge overgrown lion entered at the mouth 
of the cave, and seeing a man at the upper end of it, immediately 
made towards him. Androcles gave himself for gone ; but the 
lion, instead of treating him as he expected, laid his paw upon 
his lap, and with a complaining kind of voice fell a licking his 
hand. Androcles, after having recovered himself a little from 
the fright he was in, observed the lion's paw to be exceedingly 
swelled by a large thorn that stuck in it. He immediately pull- 
ed it out, and by squeezing the paw very gently, made a great 
deal of corrupt matter run out of it, which probably freed the 
lion from the great anguish he had felt some time before. The 
lion left him upon receiving this good office from him, and soon 
after returned with a fawn which he had just killed. This he 
laid down at the feet of his benefactor, and went off again in pur- 
suit of his prey. Androcles, after having sodden the flesh of it 
by the sun, subsisted upon it until the lion had supplied him 
with another. He lived many days in this frightful solitude, the 
lion catering for him with great assiduity. Being tired at length 
of this savage society, he was resolved to deliver himself up into 
his master's hands, and suffer the worst effects of his displeasure, 
rather than be thus driven out from mankind. His master, as 

a And fled. Better, and fly — it is more natural to connect, fly, with 
escape, than, fled, with found ; not only from the greater distance of these 
last verbs, but, because the verb, found, is transitive, and the other two, 
escape, and fly, neutrals, which, therefore, have a more immediate relation 
to each other. 



No 139. J THE GUARDIAN. 445 

was customary for the proconsuls of Afric, was at that time get- 
ting together a present of all the largest lions that could be 
found in the country, in order to send them to Rome, that they 
might furnish out a show to the Roman people. Upon his poor 
slave's surrendering himself into his hands, he ordered him to be 
carried away to Rome as soon as the lions were in readiness to 
be sent, and that, for his crime, he should be exposed to fight 
with one of the lions in the amphitheatre, as usual, for the diver- 
sion of the people. This was all performed accordingly. An- 
drocles, after such a strange run of fortune, was now in the area 
of the theatre amidst thousands of spectators, expecting every 
moment when his antagonist would come out upon him. At 
length, a huge, monstrous lion leaped out from the place where 
he had been kept hungry for the show. He advanced with great 
rage towards the man, but on a sudden, after having regarded 
him a little wistfully, fell to the ground, and crept towards his 
feet with all the signs of blandishment and caress. Androcles, 
after a short pause, discovered that it was his old Numidian 
friend, and immediately renewed his acquaintance with him. 
Their mutual congratulations were very surprising to the be- 
holders, who, upon hearing an account of the whole matter from 
Androcles, ordered him to be pardoned, and the lion to be given 
up into his possession. Androcles returned, at Rome, the civili- 
ties which he had received from him in the deserts of Afric. 
Dion Cassius says, that he himself saw the man leading the lion 
about the streets of Rome, the people every where gathering 
about them, and repeating to one another, Hie est leo hospes ho~ 
minis, hie est \omo medicus leonis. ' This is the lion who was 
the man's best this is the man who was the lion's physician 



446 THE GUARDIAN. [ No - 1*0 



No. 140. FRIDAY, AUGUST 21. 



Quibus incendi jam frigidus sevo 

Laoinedontiades, vel Nestoris hernia possit. — Juv. 

I have lately received a letter from an astrologer in Moor- 
fields, which I have read with great satisfaction. He observes 
to me, that my lion at Button's coffee-house was very luckily 
erected in the very month when the sun was in Leo. He further 
adds, that upon conversing with the above-mentioned Mr. Button, 
(whose other name he observes is Daniel, a good omen still with 
regard to the lion his cohabitant) he had discovered the very 
hour in which the said lion was set up ; and that, by the help of 
other lights, which he had received from the said Mr. Button, 
he had been enabled to calculate the nativity of the lion. This 
mysterious philosopher acquaints me, that the sign of Leo in the 
heavens immediately precedes that of Virgo, by which, says he, is 
signified the natural love and friendship the lion bears to virginity, 
and not only to virginity, but to such matrons likewise as are pure 
and unspotted, from whence he foretels the influence which the roar* 
ings of my lion are likely to have over the female world, for the puri- 
fying of their behaviour, and bettering of their manners. He then 
proceeds to inform me, that in the most exact astrological schemes, 
the lion is observed to affect, in a more particular manner, the 
legs and the neck, as well as to allay the power of the Scorpion 
in those parts which are allotted to that fiery constellation. 
From hence he very naturally prognosticates, that my lion will 
meet with great success in the attacks he has made on the un- 
tuckered stays and short petticoat, and that, in a few months, 
there will not be a female bosom or ancle uncovered in Great 
Britain. He concludes, that by the rules of his art he foresaw 

' A set of fanatics had established themselves about this time in Moor 
fields, giving themselves o< t for prophets, <fcc., but for want of persec ifciw, 
eoon fell into discredit. — G 



NO 140.] THE GUARDIAN. 447 

five years ag3, that both the pope and myself should about this 
time unite our endeavours in this particular, and that sundry 
mutations and revolutions would happen in the female dress. 

I have another letter by me from a person of a more vola- 
tile and airy genius, who, finding this great propension in the 
fair sex to go uncovered, and thinking it impossible to reclaim 
them entirely from it, is for compounding the matter with them, 
and finding out a middle expedient between nakedness and 
clothing. He proposes, therefore, that they should imitate their 
great grandmothers the Briths or Picts, and paint the parts 
of their bodies which are uncovered with such figures as shall 
be iriost to their fancy. ' The bosom of the coquette,' says 
he, ' may bear the figure of a Cupid, with a bow in his hand, 
and his arrow upon the string. The prude might have a Pallas, 
with a shield and Gorgon's head.' In short, by this method, 
he thinks every woman might make very agreeable discoveries 
of herself, and, at the same time, show us what she would be at 
But, by my correspondent's good leave, I can by no means con- 
sent to spoil the skin of my pretty country-women. They could 
find no colours half so charming as those which are natural to 
them ; and though, like the old Picts, they painted the sun it- 
self upon their bodies, they would still change for the worse, and 
conceal something more beautiful than what they exhibited. 

I shall, therefore, persist in my first design, and endeavour 
to bring about the reformation in neck and legs which I have so 
long aimed at. Let them but raise their stays and let down their 
petticoats, and I have done. However, as I will give them space 
to consider of it, I design this for the last time that my lion shall 
roar upon the subject during this season, which I give public 
notice of, for the sake of my correspondents, that they may not 
be at an unnecessary trouble or expence in furnishing me with 
any informations relating to the tucker before the beginning of 



448 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 140. 

next winter, when I may again resume that point if I find occa- 
sion for it. I shall not, however, let it drop, without acquaint- 
ing my reader, that I have written a letter to the pope upon it, 
in order to encourage him in his present good intentions, and 
that we may act by concert in • this matter. Here follows the 
copy of my letter 

" To Pope Clement the Eighth, Nestor Ironside, greeting. 

" Dear Brother, 
" I have heard, with great satisfaction, that you have forbid - 
den your priests to confess any woman who appears before them 
without a tucker, in which you please me well. I do agree with 
you, that it is impossible for the good man to discharge his office 
as he ought, who gives an ear to those alluring penitents that 
discover their hearts and necks to him at the same time. I am 
labouring, as much as in me lies, to stir up the same spirit of 
modesty among the women of this island, and should be glad we 
might assist one another in so good a work. In order to it, I 
desire that you will send me over the leDgth of a Koman lady's 
neck r as it stood before your late prohibition. We have some 
here who have necks of one, two, and three foot in length, some 
that have necks which reach down to their middles, and, indeed, 
some who may be said to be all neck and no body. I hope, at 
the same time, you observe the stays of your female subjects, 
that you have also an eye to their petticoats, which rise in this 
island daily. "When the petticoat reaches but to the knee, and 
the stays fall to the fifth rib (which I hear is to be the standard 
of each, as it has been lately settled in a junto of the sex) I will 
take care to send you one of either sort, which I advertise you of 
before-hand, that you may not compute the stature of our English 
women from the length of their garments. In the mean time. 



No 152.] THE GUARDIAN. 449 

I have desired the master of a vessel, who tells me that he shall 
touch at Civita Vecchia, to present you with a certain female 
machine, which, I believe, will puzzle jour infallibility to dis- 
cover the use of it. a Not to keep you in suspense, it is what 
we call in this country a hooped petticoat. I shall only beg of 
you to let me know, whether you find any garment of this nature 
among all the relics of your female saints, and, in particular, 
whether it was ever worn by any of your twenty thousand virgin 
martyrs. 

" Your's, usque ad ara$ y 

"Nestor Ironside." 

I must not dismiss this letter without declaring myself a 
good Protestant, as I hint in the subscribing part of it. This I 
think necessary to take notice of, least I should be accused, by 
an author of unexampled stupidity, for corresponding with the 
head of the Romish church. 



No. 152. FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 4. 

Quiii potiiis pacem seternam pactosque hymenseos 
Exer cemus Vibo. 

There is no rule in Longinus which I more admire, than that 
wherein he advises an author who would attain to the sublime, 
and writes for eternity, to consider, when he is engaged in his 
composition, what Homer or Plato, or any other of those heroes 
in the learned world, would have said or thought upon the same 
occasion. I have often practised this rule, with regard to the 

a Which, I believe, will "puzzle your infallibility to discover the use of it 
Badly expressed. It should be — of which t I believe, it will puzzle your in 
fallibility to discover the use. 



450 THE GUARDIAN. I> T 0. 152. 

best authors among the ancients, as well as among the moderns. 
With what success I must leave to the judgment of others. I 
may at least venture to say, with Mr. Dryden, where he professes 
to have imitated Shakespear's style, that in imitating such great 
authors I have always excelled myself. 

I have also, by this means, revived several antiquated ways 
of writing, which, though very instructive and entertaining, had 
been laid aside, and forgotten for some ages. I shall, in this 
place, only mention those allegories, wherein virtues, vices, and 
human passions, are introduced as real actors. Though this kind 
of composition was practised by the finest authors among the an- 
cients, our countryman Spencer is the last writer of note who 
has applied himself to it with success. 1 

That an allegory may be both delightful and instructive ; in 
the first place, the fable of it ought to be perfect, and, if possible, 
to be filled with surprising turns and incidents. In the next, 
there ought to be useful morals and reflections couched under it, 
which still receive a greater value from their being new and un- 
common ; as also from their appearing difficult to have been 
thrown a into emblematical types and shadows. 

I was once thinking to have written a whole canto in the 
spirit of Spencer, and in order to it, contrived a fable of imagi- 
nary persons and characters. I raised it on that common dis- 
pute between the comparative perfections and pre-eminence of 
the two sexes, each of which have very frequently had their ad- 
vocates b among the men of letters. Since I have not time to 

1 If it be true that when Addison wrote his epistle to Sacheverell (VoL 
I. p. Ill), he had never read Spenser, he had evidently done so after- 
wards. Gr. 

* Their appearing difficult to have been thrown. Clumsily expressed. 

Better thus — as also from their being such as it may seem difficult to throw. 

b It may seem more exact to say — each of which hath very frequer tly 



Nc 152.] THE GUARD AN. 45 4 

accomplish tliis work, I shall present my reader with the naked 
fable, reserving the embellishments of verse and poetry to another 
opportunity. 

The two sexes contending for superiority, were once at war 
with each other, which was chiefly carried on by their auxiliaries. 
The males were drawn up on the one side of a very spacious 
plain, the females on the other ; between them was left a very 
large interval for their auxiliaries to engage in. At each ex- 
tremity of this middle space lay encamped several bodies of 
neutral forces, who waited for the event of the battle before they 
would declare themselves, that they might then act as they saw 
occasion. 

The main body of the male auxiliaries was commanded by 
Fortitude ; that of the female by Beauty. Fortitude begun 8 the 
onset on Beauty, but found, to his cost, that she had such a 
particular witchcraft in her looks, as withered all his strength. 
She played upon him so many smiles and glances, that she quite 
weakened and disarmed him. 

In short, he was ready to call for quarter, had not Wisdom 
come to his aid : this was the commander of the male right wing, 
and would have turned the fate of the day, had not he been 
timely opposed by Cunning, who commanded the left wing of the 
female auxiliaries. Cunning was the chief engineer of the fair 
army ; but upon this occasion was posted, as I have here said, to 
receive the attacks of Wisdom. It was very entertaining to see 
the workings of these two antagonists ; the conduct of the one, 
and the stratagems of the other. Never was there a more equal 
match. Those who beheld it, gave the victory sometimes to the 

had its advocates — or parenthetically thus — which have, each of them, very 
frequently, had their advocates. 

a Begun, is the participle, — hath begun. It should have been began, 
m the imperfect tense. [Begun, according to Latham, is the pluraL V, 
Latham's English Lang. p. 313, 3d ed. — G-. | 



4h.i THE GUARDIAN. [No. 152. 

one, and sometimes to the other, though most declared the advan 
tage was on the side of the female commander. 

In the mean time, the conflict was very great in the left wing 
of the army, where the battle began to turn to the male side. 
This wing was commanded by an old experienced officer called 
Patience, and on the female side by a general known by the 
name of Scorn. The latter, that fought after the manner of the 
Parthians, had the better of it all the beginning of the day ; but 
being quite tired out, with the long pursuits, and repeated attacks 
of the enemy, who had been repulsed above a hundred times, and 
rallied as often, begun to think of yielding. "When on a sudden, 
a body of neutral forces began to move. The leader was of an 
ugly look, and gigantic stature. He acted like a Drawcansir, 
sparing neither friend nor foe. His name was Lust. On the 
female side he was opposed by a select body of forces, com- 
manded by a young officer that had the face of a cherubim, and 
the name of Modesty. This beautiful young hero was supported 
by one of a more masculine turn, and fierce behaviour, called by 
men Honour, and by the gods Pride. This last made an 
obstinate defence, and drove back the enemy more than once, but 
at length resigned at discretion. 

The dreadful monster, after having overturned whole squad- 
rons in the female army, fell in among the males, where he made 
a more terrible havoc than on the other side. He was here op- 
posed by Reason, who drew up all his forces against him, and 
held the fight in suspense for some time, but at length quitted 
the field. 

After a great ravage on both sides, the two armies agreed to 
join against this common foe. And in order to it, drew out a 
small chosen band, whom they placed, by consent, under the 
conduct of Virtue, who, in a little time, drove this foul ugly 
monster aut of thf- field 



No 153.] THE GUARDIAN. 453 

Upon his retreat, a second neutral leader, whose name was 
Love, marched in between the two armies. He headed a body 
of ten thousand winged boys that threw their darts and arrows 
promiscuously among both armies. The wounds they gave were 
not the wounds of an enemy. They were pleasing to those that 
felt them ; and had so strange an effect, that they wrought a 
spirit of mutual friendship, reconciliation, and good-will in both 
sexes. The two armies now looked with cordial love on each 
other, and stretched out their arms with tears of joy, as longing 
to forget old animosities, and embrace one another. 

The last general of neutrals, that appeared in the field, was 
Hymen, who marched immediately after Love, and seconding 
the good inclinations which he had inspired, joined the hands of 
both armies. Love generally accompanied him, and recom- 
mended the sexes, pair by pair, to his good offices. 

But as it is usual enough for several persons to dress them- 
selves in the habit of a great leader, Ambition and Avarice had 
taken on them the garb and habit of Love, by which means they 
often imposed on Hymen, by putting into his hands several 
couples whom he would never have joined together, had it not 
been brought about* by the delusion of these two impostors 



No. 153. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 5. 

Admiranda tibi levitim spectacula rerum. — Verg. 

There is no passion which steals into the heart more imper- 
ceptibly, and covers itself under more disguises, than pride. For 

a Had it not been brought about. It, i. e. their being joined together. 
This careless manner of expression might have been avoided, by saying 
nimply — had he not been deluded by these two impostors. 



454 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 16$. 

my own part, I think, if there is any passion or vice which I am 
wholly a stranger to, it is this ; though, at the same time, per- 
haps, this very judgment which I form of myself, proceeds, in 
some measure, from this corrupt principle. 

I have been always wonderfully delighted with that sentence 
in holy writ, ' Pride was not made for man.' There is not, in- 
deed, any single view of human nature, under its present condi- 
tion, which is not sufficient to extinguish in us all the secret 
seeSs of pride ; a and, on the contrary, to sink the soul into the 
lowest state of humility, and what the schoolmen call self-annihi- 
lation. Pride was not made for man, as he is, 

1. A sinful, 

2. An ignorant, 

3. A miserable being. 

There is nothing in his understanding, in his will, or, in his 
present condition, that can tempt any considerate creature to 
pride or vanity. 

These three very reesons why he should not be proud, are, 
notwithstanding, the reasons why he is so. Were not he a sinful 
creature, he would not be subject to a passion which rises from 
the depravity of his nature ; were he not an ignorant creature, 
he would see that he has nothing to be proud of; and were not 
the whole species miserable, he would not have those wretched 
objects of comparison before his eyes, which are the occasions of 
this passion, and which make one man value himself more than 
another. 

A wise man will be contented that his glory be deferred till 
such time as he shall be truly glorified ; when his understanding 

a Seeds of pride. "We say, indeed, seeds of fire, and we may extinguish 
such seeds. But this is a poetical, that is, an uncommon sense of the word 
seeds. It had been easier and better to say, (as the author himself has 
done, on another occasion,) to kill ir. us the secret seeds of pride, <fec. Spect 
No. 531. 



No. 15*.] THE GUARDIAN. 455 

shall be cleared, his will rectified, and his happ'ness assured ; or, 
in other words, when he shall be neither sinful nor ignorant, nor 
miserable. 

If there be any thing which makes human nature appear ridi- 
culous to beings of superior faculties, it must be pride. They 
know so well the vanity of those imaginary perfections that swell 
the heart of man, and of those little supernumerary advantages, 
whether in birth, fortune, or title, which one man enjoys above 
another, that it must certainly very much astonish, if it does not 
very much divert them, when they see a mortal puffed up, and 
valuing himself above his neighbours, on any of these accounts, 
at the same time that he is obnoxious to all the common calami- 
ties of the species. 

To set this thought in its true light,* we will fancy, if you 
please, that yonder mole-hill is inhabited by reasonable creatures, 
and that every pismire (his shape and way of life only excepted) 
is endowed with human passions. How should we smile to hear 
one give us an account of the pedigrees, distinctions, and titles 
that reign among them ! Observe how the whole swarm divide 
and make way for the pismire that passes through them. You 
must understand he is an emmet of quality, and has better blood 
in his veins than any pismire in the mole-hill. Do not you see 
how sensible he is of it, how slow he marches forward, how the 
whole rabble of ants keep their distance ? Here you may ob- 
serve one placed upon a little eminence, and looking down on a 

a The comparison here carried on with so much vivacity of humour ia 
equally a favourite with the religionist, and free-thinker, but on very dif- 
ferent considerations; with the religionist, who intends to mortify human 
pride, and with the free-thinker, who employs it to degrade and vilify hu- 
man nature. The former would shew how man becomes ridiculous, by de- 
parting from the rule of his nature, reason; the latter would have us infer 
from it, that the most reasonable pursuits of man, are insignificant. But 
to make out this last conclusion, more must be taken for granted, than the 
parallel implies, or the libertine will ever prove : I mean, that the reason 
able conduct of the passions has no influence on the enjoyment of this life, 
or of another. 



456 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 163 

long row of labourers. He is the richest insect on this side the 
aillock, he has a walk of half a yard in length, and a quarter of 
an inch in breadth ; he keeps a hundred menial servants, and has, 
at least, fifteen barley-corns in his granary. He is now chiding 
and beslaving the emmet that stands before him, and who, for all 
that we can discover, is as good an emmet as himself. 

But here comes an insect of figure ! Do not you take notice 
of a little white straw that he carries in his mouth ? That straw, 
you must understand, he would not part with for the longest tract 
about the mole-hill ; did you but know what he has undergone to 
purchase it ! See how the ants of all qualities and conditions 
swarm about him. Should this straw drop out of his mouth, you 
would see all this numerous circle of attendants follow the next 
that took it up, and leave the discarded insect, or run over his 
back, to come at his successor. 

If now you have a mind to see all the ladies of the mole-hill, 
observe first the pismire that listens to the emmet on her left 
hand, at the same time that she seems to turn away her head from 
him. He tells this poor insect that she is a goddess, that her 
eyes are brighter than the sun, that life and death are at her dis- 
posal. She believes him, and gives herself a thousand little airs 
upon it. Mark the vanity of the pismire on your left hand. 
She can scarce crawl with age, but you must know she values her- 
self upon her birth ; and if you mind, spurns at every one that 
comes within her reach. The little nimble coquette that is running 
along by the side of her, is a wit. She has broke many a pismire's 
heart. Do but observe what a drove of lovers are running after 
her. 

We will here finish this imaginary scene ; but first of all, to 
draw the parallel closer, will suppose, if you please, that death 
comes down upon the mole-hill, in the shape of a cock-sparrow ; 
who picks up, without distinction, the pismire of quality and his 



No. 154.] THE GUARDIAN. 457 

flatterers, the pismire of substance and his day-labourers, the 
white-straw officer and his sycophants, with all the goddesses, wita, 
and beauties of the mole-hill. 

May we not imagine that beings of superior natures and per- 
fections, regard all the instances of pride and vanity, among our 
own species, in the same kind of view, when they take a survey 
of those who inhabit the earth ; or, in the language of an inge- 
nious French poet, of those , pismires that people this heap of 
dirt, which human vanity has divided into climates and re- 



No. 154. MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 7. 

Omnia transformant sese in miracnla rerum. — Virg. 

I question not but the following letter will be entertaining to 
those who were present at the late masquerade, as it will recal 
into their minds several merry particulars that passed in it, and, 
at the same time, be very acceptable to those who were at a dis- 
tance from it, as they may form from hence some idea of this fash- 
ionable amusement. 

To Nestor Ironside, Esq. 

Per viam Leonis. 
" Sir, 
" I could scarce ever go into good company, but the discourse 
was on the ambassador, the politeness of his entertainments, the 
goodness of his Burgundy and Champaign, the gaiety of his mas- 
querades, with the odd fantastical dresses which were made use 
of in those midnight solemnities. The noise these diversions 
made at last raised my curiosity, and for once I resolved to be 
present at them, being at the same time provoked to it by a lady 
vol. iv. — 20 



458 THI GUARDIAN. [No. 154 

I then made my addresses to, one of a sprightly humour, and a 
great admirer of such novelties. In order to it, I hurried my 
habit, and got it ready a week before the time, for I grew impa- 
tient to be initiated in these new mysteries. Every morning I 
drest myself in it, and acted before the looking-glass, so that I 
am vain enough to think I was as perfect in my part, as most 
who had oftener frequented these diversions. You must under- 
stand, I personated a devil, and that for several weighty reasons. 
First, because appearing as one of that fraternity, I expected to 
meet with particular civilities from the more polite and better 
bred part of the company. Besides, as from their usual reception, 
they are called familiars, I fancied I should, in this character, be 
allowed the greatest liberties, and soonest be led into the secrets 
of the masquerade. To recommend and distinguish me from the 
vulgar, I drew a very long tail after me. But to speak the truth, 
what persuaded me most to this disguise was, because I heard an 
intriguing lady say, in a large company of females, who unani- 
mously assented to it, that she loved to converse with such, for 
that generally they were very clever fellows who made choice of 
that shape. At length, when the long wished for evening came, 
which was to open to us such vast scenes of pleasure, I repaired 
to the place appointed about ten at night, where I found nature 
turned top-side turvy ; women changed into men, and men into 
women, children in leading-strings seven foot high, courtiers trans- 
formed into clowns, ladies of the night into saints, people of the 
first quality into beasts or 'birds, gods or goddesses ; I fancied I 
Had all Ovid's Metamorphoses before me. Among these were 
several monsters to which I did not know how to give a nain* 



Than fables yet have feigned, or fear conceiv'd, 
Gorgons, and hydras, and chimeras dire. — Melton. 

1 In the middle of the first room I met with one dressed in a 



^0.154] THE GUARDIAN. 459 

shroud. This put me in mind of the old custom of serving up ? 
death's head at a feast. I was a little angry at the dress, and 
asked the gentleman whether he thought a dead man was fit com- 
pany for such an assembly ; but he told me, that he was one who 
loved his money, and that he considered this dress would serve 
him another time. This walking corse was followed by a gigan- 
tic woman with a high crowned hat, that stood up like a steeple 
over the heads of the whole assembly. I then chanced to tread 
upon the foot of a female quaker, to all outward appearance ; but 
was surprised to hear her cry out, ' D — n you, you son of a 
,' upon which I immediately rebuked her, when all of a sud- 
den, resuming her character, l Verily, (says she) I was to blame, 
but thou hast bruised me sorely.' A few moments after this ad- 
venture, I had like to have been knocked down fl by a shepherdess, 
for having run my elbow a little inadvertently into one of her 
sides. She swore like a trooper, and threatened me with a very 
masculine voice ; but I was timely taken off by a Presbyterian 
parson, who told me in a very soft tone, that he believed I was a 
pretty fellow, and that he would meet me in Spring-garden to- 
morrow night. The next object I saw was a chimney-sweeper, 
made up of black crape and velvet, (with a huge diamond in his 
mouth) making love to a butterfly. On a sudden I found myself 
among a flock of bats, owls, and lawyers : but what took up my 
attention most was, one dressed in white feathers that represented 
a swan. He would fain have found out a Leda among the fair 
sex, and, indeed, was the most unlucky bird in the company. 
I was then engaged in discourse with a running footman, but as 
I treated him like what he appeared to be, a Turkish emperor 
whispered me in the ear, desiring me to use him civilly, for that 

" I had like to have been knocked down. The past time, had mhad like, 
fixes the time of being knocked do'on to the present. It shouH, then, be— 
" / had like to be knocked down." 



460 THE GUARDIAN. [No, 154, 

it was his master. I was here interrupted by the famous large 
figure of a woman, hung with little looking-glasses. She had a 
*reat many that followed her as she passed by me, but I w®uld 
not have her value herself upon that account, since it was .plain 
they did not follow so much to look upon her as to see themselves. 
The next I observed was a nun making an assignation with a hea- 
then god, for I heard them mention the Little Piazza in Covent- 
Grarden. I was by this time exceeding hot, and thirsty, so that 
I made the best of my way to the place where wine was dealt 
about in great quantities. I had no sooner presented myself be- 
fore the table, but a magician, seeing me, made a circle over my 
head with his wand, and seemed to do me homage. I was at a 
loss to account for his behaviour ; until I recollected who I was : 
this, however, drew the eyes of the servants upon me, and imme- 
diately procured me a glass of excellent Champaign. The magi- 
cian said I was a spirit of an adust and dry constitution ; and 
desired that I might have another refreshing glass, adding withal, 
that it ought to be a brimmer. I took it in my hand, and drank 
it off to the magician. This so enlivened me, that I led him by 
the hand into the next room, where we danced a rigadoon toge- 
ther. I was here a little offended at a jackanapes of a Scara- 
mouch, that cried out, * Avaunt Satan !' and gave me a little tap 
on my left shoulder, with the end of his lath sword. As I was 
considering how I ought to resent this affront, a well-shaped per- 
son that stood at my left-hand, in the figure of a bellman, cried 
out with a suitable voice, 'Past twelve a clock.' This put me in 
mind of bed-time : accordingly I made my way towards the door, 
but was intercepted by an Indian king, a tall, slender youth, 
dressed up in a most beautiful party-coloured plumage. He re- 
garded my habit very attentively ; and after having turned me 
about once or twice, asked me whom I had been tempting ; I 
eould not tell what was the matter with me, but my heart leaped 



No, 154.] THE GUARDIAN. 46i 

as soon as lie touched me, and was still in greater disorder, upon 
my hearing his voice. In short, I found, after a little discourse 
with him, that his Indian majesty was my dear Leonora, who 
knowing the disguise I had put on, would not let me pass by her 
unobserved. Her awkward manliness made me guess at her sex, 
and her own confession quickly let me know the rest. This mas- 
querade did more for me than a twelvemonth's courtship : for it 
inspired her with such tender sentiments that I married her the 
next morning. 

" How happy I shall be in a wife taken out of a masquerade, 
I cannot yet tell ; but I have reason to hope the best, Leonora 
having assured me it was the first and shall be the last time of 
her appearing at such an entertainment. 

" And now, sir, having given you the history of this strange 
evening, which looks rather like a dream than a reality, it is my 
request to you, that you will oblige the world with a dissertation 
on masquerades in general, that we may know how far they are 
useful to the public, and consequently how far they ought to be 
encouraged. I have heard of two or three very odd accidents 
that have happened upon this occasion, as in particular, of a law- 
yer's being now big-bellied, who was present at the first of these 
entertainments ; not to mention (what is still more strange) an 
old man with a long beard, who was got with child by a milk- 
maid ; but in cases of this nature, where there is such a confusion 
of sex, age, and quality, men are apt to report rather what might 
have happened, than what really came to pass. Without giving 
credit therefore to any of these rumours, I shall only renew my 
petition to you, that you will tell us your opinion at large of 
these matters, and am, 

" Sir, &c. 

;< Lucifer. " 



462 THE GUARDIAN. [No. lfi& 



No. 155. TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 8. 



— libelli Stoici inter sericos 



Jacere pulvillos amant. — Hob. 

I have often wondered that learning is not thought a proper 
ingredient in the education of a woman of quality or fortune. 
Since they have the same improvable minds as the male part of 
the species, why should they not be cultivated by the same 
methods ? why should reason be left to itself in one of the sexes, 
and be disciplined with so much care in the other ? 

There are some reasons why learning seems more adapted to 
the female world, than to the male. As in the first place, be- 
cause they have more spare time upon their hands, and lead a 
more sedentary life. Their employments are of a domestic na- 
ture, and not like those of the other sex, which are often incon- 
sistent with study and contemplation. The excellent lady, the 
Lady Lizard, in the space of one summer, furnished a gallery with 
chairs and couches of her own and her daughters' working ; and 
at the same time heard all Dr. Tillotson's Sermons twice over. 
It is always the custom for one of the young ladies to read, while 
the others are at work ; so that the learning of the family is not 
at all prejudicial to its manufactures. I was mightily pleased, 
the other day, to find them all busy in preserving several fruits 
of the season, with the Sparkler in the midst of them, reading 
over The Plurality of Worlds. 1 It was very entertaining to me 
to see them dividing their speculations between jellies and stars, 
and making a sudden transition from the sun to an apricot, or 
from the Copernican system to the figure of a cheese-cake. 

A second reason why women should apply themselves to us^- 

1 Fontenelle's celebrated dialogue — De la Pluralite des Mondes, which 
has been supposed to have been one of Addison's models in the Dialogues 
on Medals — though no two authors can be more unlike. — G. 



tfo 155. "J THE GUARDIAN. 463 

ful knowledge rather than men, is, "because they have the natura. 
gift of speech in greater perfection. Since they have so excel- 
lent a talent, such a copia verborum, or plenty of words, it is 
pity they should not put it to some use. If the female tongue 
will be in motion, why should it not be set to go Tight ? Could 
they discourse about the spots in the sun, it might divert them 
from publishing the faults of their neighbours : could they talk 
of the different aspects and conjunctions of the planets, they 
need not be at the pains to comment upon oglings and clandestine 
marriages. In short, were they furnished with matters of fact, 
out of arts and sciences, it would now and then be of great ease 
to their invention. 

There is another reason why those, especially who are women 
of quality, should apply themselves to letters ; namely, because 
their husbands are generally strangers to them. 

It is great pity there should be no knowledge in a family. 
For my own part, I am concerned when I go into a great house, 
where, perhaps, there is not a single person that can spell, unless 
it be by chance the butler, or one of the footmen. What a figure 
is the young heir likely to make, who is a dunce both by father 
and mother's side ? 

If we look into the histories of famous women, we find many 
eminent philosophers of this sex. Nay, we find that several 
females have distinguished themselves in those sects of philo- 
sophy which seem almost repugnant to their natures. There 
have been famous female Pythagoreans, notwithstanding most of 
that philosophy consisted in keeping a secret, and that the dis- 
ciple was to hold her tongue five years together. I need not 
mention Portia, who was a stoic in petticoats : nor Hipparchia, 
the famous she cynic, 0, who arrived at such a perfection in her 

■ An oddly chosen instance, if the author meant, in earnest, to recom- 
mend philosoimy to his female discip"es. But his badinage, by being pur 



464 THE GUARDIAN. [No 155 

studies that she conversed with her husband, or man-planter, in 
broad day-light, and in the open streets. 

Learning and knowledge are perfections in us, not as we are 
men, but as we are reasonable creatures, in which order of beings 
the female world is upon the same level with the male. We 
ought to consider in this particular, not what is the sex, but 
what is the species to which they belong. At least, I believe 
every one will allow me, that a female philosopher is not so ab- 
surd a character, and so opposite to the sex, as a female game- 
ster ; and that it is more irrational for a woman to pass away 
half a dozen hours at cards or dice, than in getting up stores of 
useful learning. This, therefore, is another reason why I would 
recommend the studies of knowledge to the female world, that 
they may not be at a loss how to employ those hours that lie 
upon their hands. 

I might also add this motive to my fair readers, that several 
of their sex, who have improved their minds by books and litera- 
ture, have raised themselves to the highest posts of honour and 
fortune. A neighbouring nation may at this time furnish us 
with a very remarkable instance 8 of this kind, but I shall con- 
clude this head with the history of Athenais, which is a very 
signal example to my present purpose. 

The emperor Theodosius being about the age of one and 
twenty, and designing to take a wife, desired his sister Pulcheria 

sued too far, has led him out of his subject. He was sensible of the escape, 
and returns to it again, though not with the best grace, in what follows. 

tt Madam Maintenon. — The character of this lady was but imperfectly 
known at that time. We now understand that she was the most virtuous, 
as well as the most accomplished woman, in the world. 

[If the learned bishop had been given to satire, the last sentence 
might have been taken for irony. The intimate friend of Ninon de 1' En- 
el os, and protegee and rival of Madame de Montespan, can hardly be said tc 
have been the most virtuous woman in the world ; though her accomplish- 
ments were unquestionably great, and her subsequent virtue highly exem« 
piary. — G.] 



rfo. 155.J THE GUARD'AN. 465 

and his friend Paulinus to search his whole empire for a woman 
of the most exquisite beauty and highest accomplishments. In 
the midst of this search, Athenais, a Grecian virgin, accidentally 
offered herself. Her father, who was an eminent philosopher of 
Athens, and had bred her up in all the learning of that place, at 
his death left her but a very small portion, in which also she 
suffered great hardships from the injustice of her two brothers. 
This forced her upon a journey to Constantinople, where she 
had a relation who represented her case to Pulcheria, in order 
to obtain some redress from the emperor. By this means, that 
religious princess became acquainted with Athenais, whom she 
found the most beautiful woman of her age, and educated under 
a long course of philosophy in the strictest virtue, and most un- 
spotted innocence. Pulcheria was charmed with her conversa- 
tion, and immediately made her reports to the emperor, her 
brother Theodosius. The character she gave made such an im- 
pression on him, that he desired his sister to bring her away 
immediately to the lodgings of his friend Paulinus, where he 
found her beauty and her conversation beyond the highest idea 
he had framed of them. His friend Paulinus converted her to 
Christianity, and gave her the name of Eudocia ; after which 
the emperor publicly espoused her, and enjoyed all the happiness 
in his marriage which he promised himself from such a virtuous 
and learned bride. 1 She not only forgave the injuries which her 
two brothers had done her, but raised them to great honours ; 
and by several works of learning, as well as by an exemplary 
life, made herself so dear to the whole empire, that she had many 
statues erected to her memory, and is celebrated by the fathers of 
t he church as the ornament of her sex. 

1 Not altogether correct. She quarrelled with Pulchena, and passed 
the last sixteen years of her life in exile and disgrace. — G. 

vol. iv. — 20* 



4H6 THE GUARDIAN. [^°- 1 56 



No. 156. WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 9. 



- Magni formii» iaboris 



Ore trahit quodcunque potest, atque addit acervo, 
Quern struit haud ignara, ac non incauta futuri. 
Quae, simul inversum contristat Aquarius annum, 
Non usquam prorepit, & illis utitur ante 
Qusesitis patiens Hob. 

In my last Saturday's paper I supposed a mole-hill, inhabited 
by pismires or ants, to be a lively image of the earth, peopled by 
human creatures. This supposition will not appear too forced 
or strained to those who are acquainted with the natural history 
of these little insects, in order to which I shall present my 
reader with the extract of a letter upon this curious subject, as 
it was published by the members of the French academy, and 
since translated into English. I must confess I was never in my 
life better entertained than with this narrative, which is of 
undoubted credit and authority. 

" In a room next to mine, which had been empty for a long 
time, there was upon a window a box full of earth, two foot deep, 
and fit to keep flowers in. That kind of parterre had been long 
uncultivated ; and therefore it was covered with old plaster, and 
a great deal of rubbish that fell from the top of the house, and 
from the walls, which, together with the earth formerly imbibed 
with water, made a kind of a dry and barren soil. That place 
lying to the south, and out of the reach of the wind and rain, 
besides the neighbourhood of a granary, was a most delightful 
spot of ground for ants ; and therefore they had made three nests 
there, without doubt for the same reason that men build cities in 
fruitful and convenient places, near springs and rivers. 

" Having a mind to cultivate some flowers, I took a view of 
that place, and removed a tulip out of the garden into that box j 
Dut casting my eyes upon the ants, continually taken up with a 



No 156.] THE GUARDIAN. 467 

thousand cares, very inconsiderable with respect tc us, but of the 
greatest importance for them, they appeared to me more worthy 
of my curiosity than all the flowers in the world. I quickly 
removed the tulip, to be the admirer and restorer of that little 
, commonwealth. This was the only thing they wanted ; for their 
policy, and the order observed among them, are more perfect 
than those of the wisest republics : and therefore they have 
nothing to fear, unless a new legislator should attempt to change 
the form of their government. 

" I made it my business to procure them all sorts of conve- 
niences. I took out of the box every thing that might be 
troublesome to them ; and frequently visited my ants, and studied 
all their actions. Being used to go to bed very late, I went to 
see them work in a moonshiny night ; and I did frequently get 
up in the night, to take a view of their labors. I always found 
some going up and down, and very busy : one would think that 
they never sleep. Every body knows that ants come out of their 
holes in the day-time, and expose to the sun the corn which they 
keep under ground in the night : those who have seen ant-hillocks 
have easily perceived those small heaps of corn about their nests. 
What surprised me at first was. that my ants never brought out 
their corn, but in the night when the moon did shine, and kept it 
underground in the day-time ; which was contrary to what I had 
seen, and saw still practised by those insects in other places. I 
quickly found out the reason of it : there was a pigeon-house not 
far from thence : pigeons and birds would have eaten their corn, 
if they had brought it out in the day-time : it is highly probable 
they knew it by experience ; and I frequently found pigeons and 
birds in that place, when I went to it in the morning. I quickly 
delivered them from those robbers : I frighted the birds away 
with some pieces of paper tied to the end of a string over the 
window. As for th? pigeons, I drove them away several times 



468 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 156 

and when they perceived that the place was more frequented 
than before, they never came to it again. What is most admira- 
ble, and what I could hardly believe, if I did not know it by 
experience, is, that those ants knew, some days after, that they 
had nothing to fear, and began to lay out their corn in the sun* 
However, I perceived they were not fully convinced of being out 
of all danger ; for they durst not bring out their provisions all 
at once, but by degrees, first in a small quantity, and without 
any great order, that they might quickly carry them away in 
case of any misfortune, watching, and looking every way. At 
last, being persuaded that they had nothing to fear, they brought 
out all their corn, almost every day ) and in good order, and car- 
ried it in at night. 

" There is a straight hole in every ant's-nest, about half an 
inch deep; and then it goes down sloping into a place where they 
have their magazine, which I take to be a different place from 
that where they rest and eat. For it is highly improbable that 
an ant, which is a very cleanly insect, and throws out of her nest 
all the small remains of the corn on which she feeds, as I have 
observed a thousand times, would fill up her magazine, and mix 
her corn with dirt and ordure. 

" The corn that is laid up by ants, would shoot under ground, 
if those insects did not take care to prevent it. They bite off all 
the buds before they lay it up ; and, therefore, the corn that has 
lain in their nests will produce nothing. Any one may easily 
make this experiment, and even plainly see that there is no bud 
in their corn. But though the bud be bitten off, there remains 
another inconvenience, that corn must needs swell and rot under 
ground ; and therefore it could be of no use for the nourishment 
of ants. Those insects prevent that inconvenience by x <heir 
labour and industry, and contrive the matter so, that con will 
keep as dry in their nests as in our granaries. 



No. 156. J THE GUARDIAN. 469 

" They gather many small particles of dry arth, which they 
bring every day out of their holes, and place them round to heat 
them in the sun. Every ant brings a small particle of that earth 
in her pincers, lays it by the hole, and then goes and fetches 
another. Thus, in less than a quarter of an hour, one may see a 
vast number of such small particles of dry earth, heaped up round 
the hole. They lay their corn under ground upon that earth, 
and cover it with the same. They performed this work almost 
every day, during the heat of the sun ; and though the sun went 
from the window, about three or four o'clock in the afternoon, 
they did not remove their corn, and their particles of earth, 
because the ground was very hot, till the heat was over. 

" If any one should think that those animals should use sand, 
or small particles of brick or stone, rather than take so much 
pains about dry earth : I answer, that upon such an occasion, 
nothing can be more proper than earth heated in the sun. Corn 
does not keep upon sand ; besides, a grain of corn that is cut, 
being deprived of its bud, would be filled with small sandy parti- 
cles that could not easily come out. To which I add, that sand 
consists of such small particles, that an ant could not take them 
up one after another ; and, therefore, those insects are seldom to 
be seen near rivers, or in a very sandy ground. 

" As for the small particles of brick or stone, the least moist- 
ness would join them together, and turn them into a kind of 
mastich, which those insects could not divide. Those particles 
sticking together, could not come out of any ant's nest, and would 
spoil its symmetry. 

" When ants have brought out those particles of earth, they 
bring out their corn after the same manner, and place it round 
that earth : thus one may see two heaps surrounding their hole, 
one of dry earth, and the other of corn ; and then they fetch out 



470 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 156. 

a remainder of dry earth, on which, doub l«*s, their corn was 
laid up. 

" Those insects never go about this work but when the 
weather is clear, and the sun verj hot. I observed, that those 
little animals having one day brought out their corn at eleven 
o'clock in the forenoon, removed it, against their usual custom, 
before one in the afternoon ; the sun being very hot, and sky 
very clear, I could perceive no reason for it. But half an hour 
after, the sky began to be overcast, and there fell a small rain, 
which the ants foresaw ; whereas the Milan almanac had foretold 
that there would be no rain upon that day. 

" I have said before, that those ants which I did so particu- 
larly consider, fetched their corn out of a garret. I went very 
frequently into that garret : there was some old corn in it ; and 
because every grain was not alike, I observed that they chose the 
best. 

" I know, by several experiments, that those little animals 
take great care to provide themselves with wheat when they can 
find it, and always pick out the best ; but they can make shift 
without it. When they can get no wheat, they take rye, oats 
millet, and even crumbs of bread, but seldom any barley, unless 
it be in a time of great scarcity, and when nothing else can be 
had. 

" Being willing to be more particularly informed of tieir fore- 
cast and industry, I put a small heap of wheat in a corner of the 
room where they kept : and to prevent their fetching corn out of 
the garret, I shut up the window, and stopt all the holes. Though 
ants are very knowing, I do not take them to be conjurers ; and ; 
therefore, they could not guess that I had put some corn in that 
room. I perceived, for several days, that they were very much 
perplexed, and went a great way to fetch their provisions. I 
was not willing, for some time, to make them more easy ; for I 



#0.156.] THE GUARDIAN. 47! 

had a mind to know whether they would at last find out the 
treasure, and see it at a great distance, and whether smelling 
enabled them to know what is good for their nourishment. Thus 
they were some time in great trouble, and took a great deal of 
pains : they went up and down a great way, looking out for some 
grains of c jrn : they were sometimes disappointed, and sometimes 
they did not like their corn, after many long and painful excur- 
sions. What appeared to me wonderful, was, that none of them 
came home witliout bringing something : one brought a grain of 
wheat, another a- grain of rye or oats, or a particle of dry earth, 
if she could get nothing else. 

" The window, upon which those ants had made their settle- 
ment, looked into a garden, and was two stories high. Some 
went to the further end of the garden, and others to the fifth 
story, in quest of some corn. It was a very hard journey for 
them, especially when they came home loaded with a pretty large 
grain of corn, which must needs be a heavy burthen for an ant, 
and as much as she can bear. The bringing of that grain from 
the middle of the garden to the nest, took up four hours, where- 
by one may judge of the strength, and prodigious labour of those 
little animals. It appears from thence, that an ant works as 
hard as a man, who should carry a very heavy load on his shoul- 
ers, almost every day, for the space of four leagues. It is true, 
those insects do not take so much pains, upon a flat ground ; but 
then how great is the hardship of a poor ant, when she carries a 
grain of corn to the second story, climbing up a wall with her 
head downwards, and her backside upwards ? None can have a 
true notion of it, unless they see those little animals at work in 
such a situation. The frequent stops they make in the most con- 
venient places, are a plain indication of their weariness. Some 
of them were strangely perplexed, and could not get to their 
journey's md. In such a case, the strongest ants, cr those that 



472 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 157. 

are not so weary, having carried their corn to their nest, came 
down again to help them. Some are so unfortunate as to fall 
down with their load, when they are almost come home : when 
this happens, they seldom lose their corn, but carry it up again. 
" I saw one of the smallest carrying a large grain of wheat 
with incredible pains : when she came to the box where the nest 
was, she made so much haste, that she fell down with her load, 
after a very laborious march : such an unlucky accident would 
have vexed a philosopher. I went down, and found her with the 
same corn in her paws : she was ready to climb up again. The 
same misfortune happened to her three times: sometimes she fell 
in the middle of her way, and sometimes higher ; but she never 
let go her hold, and was not discouraged. At last, her strength 
failed her : she stopped ; and another ant helped her to carry her 
load, which was one of the largest and finest grains of wheat that 
an ant can carry. It happens sometimes, that a corn slips out 
of their paws, when they are climbing up : they take hold of it 
again, when they can find it ; otherwise they look for another, or 
take something else, being ashamed to return to their nest with- 
out bringing something : this I have experimented, by taking 
away the grain which they looked for. All those experiments 
may easily be made by any one that has patience enough : they 
do not require so great a patience as that of ants; but few peo- 
ple are capable of it." 



No. 157. THURSDAY, SEPTEMBEB 10. 

Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider her ways, and be wise. — Solomon. 

It has been observed, by writers of morality, that in order to 
quicken human industry, Providence has so contrived it, that 



tfo. lo7.] THE GUARDIAN. 473 

our daily food is not to be procured without mucn pains and 
labour. The chase of birds and beasts, the several arts of fishing, 
with all the different kinds of agriculture, are necessary scenes 
of business, and give employment to the greatest part of mankind. 
If we look into the brute creation, we find all its individuals en- 
gaged in a painful and laborious way of life, to procure a neces- 
sary subsistence for themselves, or those that grow up under 
them : the preservation of their being is the whole business of it. 
An idle man is, therefore, a kind of monster in the creation. All 
nature is busy about him ; every animal he sees reproaches him. 
Let such a man, who lies as a burthen or dead weight upon the 
species, and contributes nothing either to the riches of the com- 
monwealth, or to the maintenance of himself and family, consider 
that instinct with which Providence has endowed the ant, and by 
which is exhibited an example of industry to rational creatures. 
This is set forth under many surprising instances in the paper of 
yesterday, and in the conclusion of that narrative, which is as 
follows : 

" Thus my ants were forced to make shift for a livelihood, 
when I had shut up the garret out of which they used to fetch 
their provisions. At last, being sensible that it would be a long 
time before they could discover the small heap of corn which I 
had laid up for them, I resolved to shew it to them. 

" In order to know how far their industry could reach, I con- 
trived an expedient, which had good success : the thing will 
appear incredible to those who never considered, that all animals 
of the same kind, which form a society, are more knowing than 
others. I took one of the largest ants, and threw her upon that 
small heap of wheat. She was so glad to find herself at liberty, 
that she ran away to her nest, without carrying off a grain ; but 
she observed it : for an hour after, all my ants had notice given 
them of such a provision ; and I saw most of them very busy in 



474 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 157 

carrying away the corn I had laid up in the roova. I leave it to 
you to judge, whether it may not be said, that they have a par • 
ticular way of communicating their knowledge to one another : 
for otherwise, how could they know, one or two hours after, that 
there was corn in that place ? It was quickly exhausted ; and I 
put in more, hut in a small quantity, to know the true extent of 
their appetite or prodigious avarice ; for I make no doubt but 
they lay up provisions against the winter : we read it in holy 
scripture ; a thousand experiments teach us the same ; and I do 
not believe that any experiment has been made that shews the 
contrary. 

" I have said before, that there were three ants-nests in that 
box or parterre, which formed, if I may say so, three different 
cities, governed by the same laws, and observing the same order 
and the same customs. However, there was this difference, that 
the inhabitants of one of those holes seemed to be more knowing 
and industrious than their neighbours. The ants of that nest 
were disposed in a better order ; their corn was finer ; they had 
a greater plenty of provisions ; their nest was furnished with 
more inhabitants, and they were bigger and stronger : it was the 
principal and the capital Best. Nay, I observed that those ants 
were distinguished from the rest, and had some pre-eminence 
over them. 

" Though the box-full of earth, where the ants had made 
their settlement, was generally free from rain; yet it rained 
sometimes upon it, when a certain wind blew. It was a great in- 
convenience for those insects : ants are afraid of water; and when 
they go a great way in quest of provisions, and are surprised by 
the rain, they shelter themselves under some tile, or something 
clse> and do not come out until the rain is over. The ants of 
the principal nest found out a wonderful expedient to keep out 
the rain there was a small piece of a fiat slate, which they laid 



E° 167.] THE GUAEDUN. 475 

over the hole of their nest, in the day-time, whd,n they foresaw it 
would rain, and almost every night. Above fifty of those little 
animals, especially the strongest, surrounded that piece of slate, 
and drew it equally in a wonderful order : they removed it in 
the morning ; and nothing could be more curious than to see 
those little animals about such a work. They had made the 
ground uneven about their nest, insomuch, that the slate did not 
lie flat upon it, but left a free passage underneath. The ants of 
the two other nests did not so well succeed in keeping out the 
rain ; they laid over their holes several pieces of old and dry 
plaster, one upon the other ; but they were still troubled with 
the rain, and the next day they took a world of pains to repair 
the damage. Hence it is, that those insects are so frequently 
to be found under tiles, where they settle themselves to avoid 
the rain. Their nests are at all times covered with those tiles, 
without any incumbrance, and they lay out their corn and their 
dry earth in the sun about the tiles, as one may see every day. 
I took care to cover the two ants-nests that were troubled with 
the rain : as for the capital nest, there was no need of exercising 
my charity towards it. 

" M. de la Loubere says, in his relation of Siam, that in a 
certain part of that kingdom, which lies open to great inunda- 
tions, all the ants make their settlements upon trees : no ants- 
nests are to be seen any where else. I need not insert here what 
that author says about those insects : you may see his relation. 

" Here follows a curious experiment, which I made upon the 
same ground, where I had three ants-nests. I undertook to 
make a fourth, and went about it in the following manner. In a 
corner of a kind of a terrace, at a considerable distance from the 
box, I found a hole swarming with ants much larger than all 
those I had already seen ; but they were not so well provided 
with o^rn, nor under so good a government. I made a hole in 



476 THE GUARDIAN. [.No. 157 

the box like that of an ants-nest, and laid, as it were, trie founda- 
tions of a ntw city. Afterwards, I got as many ants as I could 
out of the nest in the terrace, and put them into a bottle, to give 
them a new habitation in my box ; and because I was afraid they 
would return to the terrace, I destroyed their old nest, pouring 
boiling water into the hole, to kill those ants that remained in it. 
In the next place, I filled the new hole with the ants that were 
in the bottle ; but none of them would stay in it : they went 
away in less than two hours ; which made me believe, that it was 
impossible to make a fourth settlement in my box. 

" Two or three days after, going accidentally over the terrace, 
I was very much surprised to see the ants-nest which I had de 
stroyed, very artfully repaired. I resolved then to destroy it 
entirely, and to settle those ants in my box. To succeed in my 
design, I put some gunpowder and brimstone into their hole, and 
sprung a mine, whereby the whole nest was overthrown ; and 
then I carried as many ants as I could get, into the place which 
I designed for them. It happened to be a very rainy day, and 
it rained all night ; and therefore they remained in the new hole 
all that time. In the morning, when the rain was over, most of 
them went to repair their old habitation ; but, finding it imprac- 
ticable by reason of the smell of the powder and brimstone 
which kills them, they came back again, and settled in the place 
I had appointed for them. They quickly grew acquainted with 
their neighbours, and received from them all manner of assistance 
out of their holes. As for the inside of their nest, none but 
themselves were concerned in it, according to the inviolable laws 
established among those animals. 

" An ant never goes into any other nest but her own; and 
if she should venture to do it, she would be turned out, and se- 
verely punished. I have often taken an ant out of one nest, to 
put her into another ; but she quickly came out, being warmly 



"No. 157.] THE GUARDIAN. 477 

pursued by two or three other ants. I tried the same experi- 
ment several times with the same ant ; but at last the other ants 
grew impatient, and tore her to pieces. I have often frighted some 
ants with my fingers, and pursued them as far as another hole : 
stopping all the passages to prevent their going to their own nest. 
It was very natural for them to fly into the next hole : many a 
man would not be so cautious, and would throw himself out of 
the windows, or into a well, if he were pursued by assassins. But 
the ants I am speaking of, avoided going into any other hole but 
their own, and rather tried all other ways of making their escape. 
They never fled into another nest, but at the last extremity : 
and sometimes rather chose to be taken, as I have often experi 
enced. It is, therefore, an inviolable custom among those insects, 
not to go into any other hole but their own. They do not exer 
cise hospitality ; but they are very ready to help one another out 
of their holes. They put down their loads at the entrance of a 
neighbouring nest ; and those that live in it carry them in. 

" They keep up a sort of trade among themselves ; and it is 
not true that those insects are not for lending ; I know the con- 
trary : they lend their corn ; they make exchanges ; they are al- 
ways ready to serve one another ; and I can assure you, that 
more time and patience would have enabled me to observe a 
thousand things more curious and wonderful than what I have 
mentioned. For instance, how they lend, and recover their loans ; 
whether it be in the same quantity, or with usury ; whether they 
pay the strangers that work for them, &c. I do not think it 
impossible to examine all those things ; and it would be a great 
curiosity to know by what maxims they govern themselves : per- 
haps such a knowledge might be of some use to us. 

" They are never attacked by any enemies in a body, as it 
is reported of bees : their only fear proceeds from birds, which 
sometimes eat their corn when they lay it out in the sun ; but 



478 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 167 

they keep it under ground, when they are afraid of thieves. It 
is said, that some birds eat them ; but I never saw any instance 
of it. They are also infested by small worms; but they turn 
them out, and kill them. I observed, that they punished those 
ants, which probably had been wanting to their duty : nay, some- 
times they killed them ; which they did in the following man- 
ner. Three or four ants fell upon one, and pulled her several 
ways, until she was torn in pieces. Generally speaking, they 
live very quietly ; from whence I infer that they have a very se- 
vere discipline among themselves, to keep so good an order ; or 
that they are great lovers of peace, if they have no occasion for 
any discipline. 

" Was there ever a greater union in any commonwealth ? 
Every thing is common among them ; which is not to be seen 
anywhere else. Bees, of which we are told so many wonderful 
things, have each of them a hole in their hives ; their honey is 
their own ; every bee minds her own concerns. The same may 
be said of all other animals : they frequently fight, to deprive one 
another of their portion. It is not so with ants ; they have noth- 
ing of their own : a grain of corn which an ant carries home, is 
deposited in a common stock : it is not designed for her own use, 
but for the whole community : there is no distinction between a 
private and a common interest. An ant never works for herself, 
but for the society. 

" Whatever misfortune happens to them, their care and indus- 
try find out a remedy for it ; nothing discourages them. If you 
destroy their nests, they will be repaired in two days. Any body 
may easily see how difficult it is to drive them out of their hab- 
itations, without destroying the inhabitants ; for, as long as there 
are any left, they will maintain their ground. 

" I had almost forgot to tell you, sir, that Mercury has hith- 
erto proved a mortal poison for them ; and that it is the most 



"*• 158 -] THE GUARDIAN. 479 

effectual way of destroying those insects. I can do something 
for them in this case : perhaps you will hear in a little time that 
I have reconciled them to Mercury." 



No. 158. FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 11. 

Gnossiua haec Khadainanthxis babet durissima regna : 
Castigatque, auditque dolos : subigitque fateri 
Quae quis apud superos, furto lsetatus inani, 
Distnlit in seraru cominissa piacula mortem. — Vikg. 

I was yesterday pursuing the hint which I mentioned in my 
last paper, and comparing together the industry of man with that 
of other creatures ; in which I could not but observe, that not- 
withstanding we are obliged by duty, to keep ourselves in constant 
employ, a after the same manner as inferior animals are prompted 
to it by instinct, we fall very short of them in this particular. 
We are here the more inexcusable, because there is a greater 
variety of business to which we may apply ourselves. Reason 
opens to us a large field of affairs, which other creatures are not 
capable of. Beasts of prey, and, I believe, of all other kinds, is 
their natural state of being, divide their time between action and 
rest. They are always at work or asleep. In short, their wak- 
ing hours are wholly taken up in seeking after their food, or in 
consuming it. The human species only, to the great reproach of 
our natures, are filled with complaints, that ' the day hangs heavy 
on them,' that ' they do not know what to do with themselves,' 
that ' they are at a loss how to pass away their time,' with many 
of the like shameful murmurs, which we often find in the mouths 

a Constant employ — he expresses himself thus, because constant employ- 
ment, -would hurt the ear. But, to make a substantive of the vert employ, 
is not allowable in exact pr >se. He might have said — to keep ourselve* 
constantly in employment. 



480 THE GUARDIAN. L^O. 16 ^ 

of those who are styled reasonable beings. How monstrous are 
such expressions among creatures, who have the labours of the 
mind, as well as those of the body, to furnish them with proper 
employments ; who, besides the business of their proper callings 
and professions, can apply themselves to the duties of religion, 
to meditation, to the reading of useful books, to discourse ; in a 
word, who may exercise themselves in the unbounded pursuits of 
knowledge and virtue, and every hour of their lives make them- 
selves wiser or better than they were before. 

After having been taken up for some time in this course of 
thought, I diverted myself with a book, according to my usual 
custom, in order to unbend my mind before I went to sleep. 
The book I made use of on this occasion was Lucian, where I 
amused my thoughts for about an hour among the dialogues of 
the dead, which, in all probability, produced the following dream.* 

I was conveyed, methought, into the entrance of the infernal 
regions, where I saw Rhadamanthus, one of the judges of the 
dead, seated in his tribunal. On his left hand stood the keeper 
of Erebus, on his right the keeper of Elysium. I was told he 
sat upon women that day, there being several of the sex lately 
arrived, who had not yet their mansions assigned them. I was 
surprised to hear him ask every one of them the same question, 
namely, ' What they had been doing ? ' Upon this question being 
proposed to the whole assembly, they stared one upon another, 
as not knowing what to answer. He then interrogated each of 
them separately. ' Madam, (says he, to the first of them) you 
have been upon the earth about fifty years : what have you been 
doing there all this while ? ' ' Doing ! (says she) really I do not 

a Yery injudicious in Mr. Addison, to treat such a subject in the man 
ner of Lucian ; which, it must he owned, he has copied but too well 

[Gozzi has followed up this vein with great success in his Osservato>*« 
Veneto.— G.] 



No. 158.] THE GUARDIAN. 481 

know what I have been doing : I desire I may have time given m« 
to recollect.' After about half an hour's pause, she told him, that 
she had been playing at crimp ; upon which, Khadamanthus beck- 
oned to the keeper on his left hand, to take her into custody. 
' And you, madam, (says the judge) that look with such a soft 
and languishing air ; I think you set out for this place in your 
nine and twentieth year, what have you been doing all this while V ' 
' I had a great deal of business on my hands (says she) being taken 
up the first twelve years of my life in dressing a jointed baby, 
and all the remaining part of it in reading pla^s and romances.' 
( Very well, (says he) you have employed your time to good 
purpose. Away with her.' The next was a plain countrywoman: 
' Well, mistress, (says Khadamanthus) and what have you been 
doing ? ' ' An't please your worship (says she) I did not live 
quite forty years ; and in that time brought my husband seven 
daughters, made him nine thousand cheeses, and left my eldest 
girl with him, to look after his house in my absence, and who, I 
may venture to say, is as pretty a housewife as any in the country.' 
Khadamanthus smiled at the simplicity of the good woman, and 
ordered the keeper of Elysium to take her into his care. c And 
you, fair lady, (says he) what have you been doing these five and 
thirty years ? ' 'I have been doing no hurt, I assure you, sir,' 
(said she). ' That is well, (says he) but what good have you been 
doing 1 ' The lady was in great confusion at this question, and 
not knowing what to answer, the two keepers leaped out to seize 
her at the same time ; the one took her by the hand to convey 
her to Elysium, the other caught hold of her to carry her away 
to Erebus. But Khadamanthus observing an ingenuous modesty 
in her countenance and behaviour, bid them both let her loose, 
and set her aside for a re-examination when he was more at lei- 
sure. An old woman, of a proud and sour look, presented her- 
self next at the bar, and being asked what she had been doing ; 
vol. iv.— 21 



482 THE GUARDIAN. [ No - 158. 

' Truly, (says sue) I lived threescore and ten years in a very 
wicked world, and was so angry at the behaviour of a parcel of 
young flirts, that I passed most of my last years in condemning 
the follies of the times ; I was every day blaming the silly con- 
duct of people about me, in order to deter those I conversed with 
from falling into the like errors and miscarriages.' ' Very well, 
(says Rhadamanthus,) but did you keep the same watchful eye 
over your own actions ? ' c Why, truly, (says she) I was so taken 
up with publishing the faults of others, that I had no time to 
consider my own.' ' Madam, (says Rhadamanthus) be pleased to 
file off to the left, and make room for the venerable matron that 
stands behind you.' ' Old gentlewoman, (says he) I think you are 
fourscore : you have heard the question, what have you been doing 
so long in the world ? ' ' Ah, sir ! (says she) I have been doing 
what I should not have done, but I had made a firm resolution 
to have changed my life, if I had not been snatched off by an 
untimely end.' { Madam, (says he) you will please to follow your 
leader ; ' and spying another of the same age, interrogated her 
in the same form. To which the matron replied, ' I have been 
the wife of a husband who was as dear to me in his old age as 
in his youth. I have been a mother, and very happy in my chil- 
dren, whom I endeavoured to bring up in every thing that is 
good. My eldest son is blest by the poor, and beloved by every 
one that knows him. I lived within my own family, and left it 
much more wealthy than I found it.' Rhadamanthus, who knew 
the value of the old lady, smiled upon her in such a manner, that 
the keeper of Elysium, who knew his office, reached out his hand 
to her. He no sooner touched her, but her wrinkles vanished, 
her eyes sparkled, her cheeks glowed with blushes, and she ap- 
peared in full bloom and beauty. A young womr.n observing that 
this officer, who conducted the happy to Elysium, was so great a 
beautifier, I nged to be in his hands, so, that pressing through 



No. 158.] THE GUARDIAN. 483 

the crowd, she ^as the next that appeared at the bar. And be- 
ing asked what she had been doing the five and twenty years that 
she had passed in the world 1 l I have endeavoured (says she) 
ever since I came to years of discretion, to make myself 
lovely and gain admirers. In order to it, I passed my time in 
bottling up May-dew, inventing white-washes, mixing colours, 
cutting out patches, consulting my glass, suiting my complexion, 
tearing off my tucker, sinking my stays — ' Rhadamanthus, with- 
out hearing her out, gave the sign to take her off. Upon the ap- 
proach of the keeper of Erebus, her colour faded, her face was 
puckered up with wrinkles, and her whole person lost in deformity. 

I was then surprised with a distant sound of a whole troop of 
females that came forward laughing, singing, and dancing. I 
was very desirous to know the reception they would meet with, 
and withal was very apprehensive, that Rhadainanthus would 
spoil their mirth : but at their nearer approach the noise grew so 
very great that it awakened me. 

I lay some time, reflecting in myself on the oddness of this 
dream, and could not forbear asking my own heart, what I was 
doing ? I answered myself, that I was writing Guardians. If 
my readers make as good a use of this work as I design they 
should, I hope it will never be imputed to me as a work that is 
vain and unprofitable. 

I shall conclude this paper with recommending to them the 
same short self-examination. If every one of them frequently 
lays his hand upon his heart, and considers what he is doing, it 
will check him in all the idle, or, what is worse, the vicious mo- 
ments of life, lift up his mind when it is running on in a series of 
indifferent actions, and encourage him when he is engaged in 
those which are virtuous and laudable. In a word, it will very 
much alleviate that guilt which the best of men have reason to 
acknowledge in their daily confessions, of ' leaving undone those 



484 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 15» 

things which they ought to have done, and of doing those things 
which they ought not to have done.' 



No. 159. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 12. 

Prassens velimo tollere de gradu 
Mortale corpus, vel superbos 
Vertere funeribus triumphos. — Hoe. 

" Having read over your paper of Tuesday last, in which 
you recommend the pursuits of wisdom and knowledge to hose 
of the fair sex, who have much time lying upon their hands, and 
among other motives make use of this, that several women, 
thus accomplished, have raised themselves by it to considerable 
posts of honour and fortune : I shall beg leave to give you an in- 
stance of this kind, which many now living can testify the truth 
of, and which I can assure you is matter of fact. 

" About twelve years ago, I was familiarly acquainted with a 
gentleman, who was in a post that brought him a yearly revenue, 
sufficient to live very handsomely upon. He had a wife, and .no 
child but a daughter, whom he bred up, as I thought, too high 
for one that could expect no other fortune than such a one as her 
father could raise out of the income of his place ; which, as they 
managed it, was scarce sufficient for their ordinary expences. 
Miss Betty had always the best sort of clothes, and was hardly 
allowed to keep company but with those above her rank ; so that 
it was no wonder she grew proud and haughty towards those 
she looked upon as her inferiors. There lived by them a barber 
who had a daughter about miss's age, that could speak French, 
had read several books at her leisure hours, and was a perfect 
mistress of her needle, and in all kinds of female manufacture 



N°-159.] THE GUARDIAN. 485 

She was at the same time a pretty, modest, witty girl She was 
hired to come to miss an hour or two every day, to talk French 
with her and teach her to work, but miss always treated her with 
great contempt ; and when Molly gave her any advice, rejected 
it with scorn. 

" About the same time several young fellows made their ad- 
dresses to Miss Betty, who had indeed a great deal of wit and 
beauty, had they not been infected with so much vanity and self- 
conceit. Among the rest was a plain sober young man, who 
loved her almost to distraction. His passion was the common 
talk of the neighbourhood, who used to be often discoursing of 

Mr. T 's angel, for that was the name he always gave her 

in ordinary conversation. As his circumstances were very indif- 
ferent, he being a younger brother, Mistress Betty rejected him 
with disdain. Insomuch that the young man, as is usual among 
those who are crossed in love, put himself aboard the fleet, with a 
resolution to seek his fortune, and forget his mistress. This was 
very hap py for him, for in a very few years, being concerned in 
several captures, he brought home with him an estate of about 
twelve thousand pounds. 

" Mean while, days and years went on, miss lived high and 
learnt but little, most of her time being employed in reading 
plays, and practising to dance, in which she arrived at great 
perfection. When, of a sudden, at a change of ministry, her fa- 
ther lost his place, and was forced to leave London, where he could 
no longer live upon the foot he had formerly done. Not many 
years after I was told the poor gentleman was dead, and had left 
his widow and daughter in a very desolate condition, but I could 
not learn where to find them, though I made what inquiry I 
could; and I must own, I immediately suspected their pride 
would not suffer them to be seen or relieved by any of their former 
acquaintance. I had left inquiring after them for some years, whei? 



486 THE GUARDIAN. \^0. 159. 

I happened not long ago, as I was asking at a house for a gentle- 
man I had Home business with, to be led into a parlour, by a hand- 
some young woman, who I presently fancied was that very 
daughter I had so long sought in vain. My suspicion increased, 
when I observed her to blush at the sight of me, and to avoid, as 
much as possible, looking upon, or speaking to me. ' Madam 
(said I) are not you Mistress Such-a-one ?' at which words the 
tears ran down her cheeks, and she would fain have retired with- 
out giving me an answer ; but I stopped her, and being to wait 
a while for the gentleman I was to speak to, I resolved not to 
lose this opportunity of satisfying my curiosity. I could not well 
discern by her dress, which was genteel, fhough not fine, whether 
she was the mistress of the house, or only a servant : but sup- 
posing her to be the first, ' I am glad, madam, (said I) after hav- 
ing long inquired after you, to have so happily met with you, 
and to find you mistress of so fine a place.' These words were 
like to have spoiled all, and threw her into such a disorder, that 
it was some time before she could recover herself; but, as soon 
as she was able to speak, { Sir, (said she,) you are mistaken; I am 
but a servant.' Her voice fell in these last words, and she burst 
again into tears. I was sorry to have occasioned in her so much 
grief and confusion, and said what I could to comfort her. l Alas ! 
sir, (said she) my condition is much better than I deserve, I have 
the kindest and best of women for my mistress. She is wife to 
the gentleman you come to speak withal. You know her very 
well, and have often seen her with me. To make my story short, 
I found that my late friend's daughter was now a servant to the 
barber's daughter, whom she had formerly treated so disdainfully. 
The gentleman at whose house I now was, fell in love with Moll, 
and being master of a great fortune, married her, and lives with 
her as happily, and as much to his satisfaction as he could desire. 
He treats her with all the friendship and respect possible, but 



Nc 159.] THE GUARDIAN. 487 

not with more than her behaviour and good qualities deserve. 
And it was with a great deal of pleasure I heard her maid dwell 
so long upon her commendation. She informed me, that after 
her father's death, her mother and she lived for a while together 
in great poverty. But her mother's spirit could not bear the 
thoughts of asking relief of any of her own, or her husband's ac- 
quaintance ; so that they retired from all their friends, until they 
were providentially discovered by this new-married woman, who 
heaped on them favours upon favours. Her mother died short- 
ly after, who, while she lived, was better pleased to see her 
daughter a beggar than a servant. But being freed by her death, 
she was taken into this gentlewoman's family, where she now 
lived, though much more like a friend or companion, than like a 
servant. 

" I went home full of this strange adventure, and about a 
week after, chancing to be in company with Mr. T. the rejected 
lover, whom I mentioned in the beginning of my letter, I told 
him the whole story of his angel, not questioning but he would 
feel on this occasion the usual pleasure of a resenting lover, 
when he hears that fortune has avenged him of the cruelty of 
his mistress. As I was recounting to him at large these several 
particulars, I observed that he covered his face with his hand, 
and that his breast heaved as though it would have burst, which 
I took at first to have been a fit of laughter ; but upon lifting 
up his head I saw his eyes all red with weeping. He forced a 
smile at the end of my story, and parted. 

" About a fortnight after I received from him the following 
letter. 

" Dear Sir, 
" I am infinitely obliged to you for bringing me news of my 
angel. I have since married her, and think the low circum 



488 THE G U A R D : A N . [ No - 160. 

stances she was reduced to, a piece of good luck to both of us, 
since it has quite removed that little pride and vanity which was 
the only part of her character that I disliked, and given me an 
opportunity of showing her the constant and sincere affection, 
which I professed to her in the time of her prosperity. 

" Your's, R. T " 



No. 160. MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 14. 

Solventur risu tabulse, tu missus abibis. — Hoe. 

From writing the history of lions, I lately went off to that 
of ants, but to my great surprise, I find that some of my good 
readers have taken this last to be a work of invention, which 
was only a plain narrative of matter of fact. They will, several 
of them, have it, that my last Thursday and Friday's papers are 
full of concealed satire, and that I have attacked people in the 
shape of pismires, whom I durst not meddle with in the shape 
of men. I must confess, that I write with fear and trembling, 
ever since that ingenious person, the Examiner, in his little 
pamphlet, which was to make way for one of his following papers, 
found out treason in the word Expect. 

But I shall, for the future, leave my friend to manage the 
controversy in a separate work, being unwilling to fill with dis- 
putes a paper which was undertaken purely out of good will to 
my countrymen. I must, therefore, declare, that those jeal- 
ousies and suspicions, which have been raised in some weak 
minds, by means of the two above-mentioned discourses concern- 
ing ants or pismires, are altogether groundless. There is not an 
emmet in all that whole narrative, who is either whig or tory ; 



No. 160.] THE GUARDIAN. 489 

and I could heartily wish, that the individuals of all parties 
aniODg us, had the good of their country at heart, and endea- 
voured to advance it by the same spirit of frugality, justice, and 
mutual benevolence, as are visibly exercised by members of those 
little commonwealths. 

After this short preface, I shall lay before my reader a let- 
ter or two which occasioned it. 

" Mr. Ironside, 
" I have laid a wager, with a friend of mine, about the 
pigeons that used to peck up the corn which belonged to the 
ants. I say that by these pigeons you meant the Palatines. He 
will needs have it, that they were the Dutch. We both agree 
that the papers upon the strings which frighted them away, were 
Pamphlets, Examiners, and the like. We beg you will satisfy 
us in this particular, because the wager is very considerable, and 
you will much oblige two of your 

" Daily Readers." 

" Old Iron, 
" Why so rusty ? Will you never leave your innuendoes ? 
do you think it hard to find out who is the tulip in your last 
Thursday's paper ? or can you imagine that three nests of ants is 
such a disguise, that the plainest reader cannot see three king- 
doms through it ? the blowing up of the neighbouring settlement 
where there was a race of poor beggarly ants, under a worse 
form of government, is not so difficult to be explained as you 
imagine. Dunkirk is not yet demolished. Your ants are ene- 
mies to rain, are they ? Old Birmingham, no more of your anV 
if you do not intend to stir up a nest of hornets." 

" Will Wasp.' 

VOL. IV. — 21* 



4 &0 THE GUARDIAN. I No. 16C 

'• Dear Guardian, 
i (j a-lling in yesterday at a coffee-house in the city, I saw a 
very short, corpulent, angry man, reading your paper about the 
ants. I observed that he reddened and swelled over every sen- 
tence of it. After having perused it throughout, he laid it 
down upon the table, called the woman of the coffee-house to him 
and asked her, in a magisterial voice, if she knew what she did 
in taking in such papers ! The woman was in such a confusion, 
„that I thought it a piece of charity, to interpose in her behalf, 
and asked him, whether he had found any thing in it of danger- 
ous import. ' Sir, (said he,) it is a republican paper from one 

end to the other, and if the author had his deserts' He here 

grew so exceeding choleric and fierce, that he could not proceed ; 
until, after having recovered himself, he laid his finger upon the 

following sentence, and read it with a very stern voice 

' Though ants are very knowing, I do not take them to be con- 
jurors : and. therefore, they could not guess that I had put some 
corn in that room. I perceived, for several days, that they were 
very much perplexed, and went a great way to fetch their provi- 
sions. I was not willing, for some time, to make them more 
easy ; for I had a mind to know, whether they would at last find 
out the treasure, and see it at a great distance, and whether 
smelling enabled them to know what is good for their nourish- 
ment.' Then throwing the paper upon the table ; ( Sir, (says 

he,) these things are not to be suffered 1 would engage, out 

of this sentence, to draw up an indictment that ' He here 

lost his voice a second time, in the extremity of his rage, and 
the whole company, who were all of them tories, bursting out 
into a sudden laugh, he threw down his penny in great wra + h, 
and retired with a most formidable frown. 

" This, sir, I thought fit to acquaint you with, that you ma/ 



No.J60.] THE GUARDIAN. 491 

make what use of it you please. I only wish that you would 
sometimes diversify your papers with many other pieces of natu- 
ral history, whether of insects or animals ; this being a subject 
which the most common reader is capable of understanding, and 
which is very diverting in its nature ; besides, that it highly re 
dounds to the praise of that Being, who has inspired the several 
parts of the sensitive world with such wonderful and different 
kinds of instinct, as enable them to provide for themselves, and 
preserve their species in that state of existence wherein they are 
placed. There is no party concerned in speculations of this na- 
ture, which, instead of inflaming those unnatural heats that pre- 
vail among us, and take up most of our thoughts, may divert our 
minds to subjects that are useful, and suited to reasonable crea- 
tures. Dissertations of this kind are the more proper for your 
purpose, as they do not require any depth of mathematics, or any 
previous science, to qualify the reader for the understanding of 
them. To this I might add, that it is a shame for men to be ig- 
norant of these worlds of wonders which are transacted in the 
midst of them, and not to be acquainted with those objects which 
are every where before their eyes. To which I might further 
add, that several are of opinion, there is no other use in many 
of these creatures, than to furnish matter of contemplation and 
wonder to those inhabitants of the earth, who are its only crea- 
tures that are capable of it. 

"I am, sir, 
" Your constant reader, and humble servant." 

After having presented my reader with this set of letters, 
which are all upon the same subject, I shall here insert one that 
has no relation to it. But it has always been my maxim, never 
io refuse going out of my way to do any honest man a service, es- 
pecially when I have an interest in it myself 



492 THE GUARDIAN. [ No 16 & 

" Most Venerable Nestor, 
<As you are a person that" very eminently distinguish youi- 
self in the promotion of the public good, I desire your friendship 
in signifying to the town, what concerns the greatest good of 
life, health. I do assure you, sir, there is in a vault, under the 
Exchange in Cornhill, over against Pope's-Head Alley, a parcel 
of French wines, full of the seeds of good-humour, cheerfulness, 
and friendly mirth. I have been told, the learned of our nation 
agree, there is no such thing as bribery in liquors, therefore I 
shall presume to send you of it, lest you should think it inconsist- 
ent with integrity to recommend what you do not understand by 
experience. In the mean time, please to insert this, that every 
man may judge for himself. 

" I am, sir," &c. 

* As you are a person that. In our management of the relatives, who, 
which, that, it may be a good general rule, to apply who, to persons ; which 
to things ; and that, to things chiefly. But, when the antecedent is the 
second person, not only that, but which, is used for who, by our best writers. 
And this use, which is enough authorized, m'ay be worth retaining, not 
merely for the grace of variety, but for the convenience of pronuncia- 
tion. 

As to the second person singular, we have an instance of that, for who, 
in the passage before us — " You are a person that very eminently distin 
guish j^ourself ;" and elsewhere, frequently. But when a vowel follows 
the relative, it seems preferable to who, as " It is thou, king, that art 
become strong : " Ban. iv. 22. — And again, "Thou that art named the 
house of Jacob." Micah, ii. 7. — which, in the same circumstance, is prefer- 
red to who, — " Our father, which art in heaven " — plainly, to avoid the ill 
effect, which the open vowels in — who art — would have on the ear, in 
both cases. So, likewise, in the second person plural, "Ye that are of the 
fountain of Israel," Ps. lxviii. 26. [marginal reading in our bibles] — and, 
"Y°t which aro spiritual restore such an one in the spirit of meekness " 
Gal. <ti. i. 



No. 161.'] IHE GUARDIAN. 493 

No. 161. TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 15. 

incoctum generoso pectus honesto. — Pees. 

Every principle that is a motive to good actions, ought to 
be encouraged, since men are of so different a make, that the 
same principle does not work equally upon all minds. What 
some men are prompted to by conscience, duty, or religion, which 
are only differ ent names for the same thing, others are prompted 
to by Honour. 

The sense of honour is of so fine and delicate a nature, that 
it is only to be met with in minds which are naturally noble, or 
in such as have been cultivated by great examples, or a refined 
education. This paper, therefore, is chiefly designed for those 
who, by means of any of these advantages are, or ought to be, ac 
tuated by this glorious principle. 

But as nothing is more pernicious than a principle of action 
when it is misunderstood, I shall consider honour with respect 
to three sorts of men. First of all, with regard to those who 
have a right notion of it. Secondly, with regard to those who 
have a mistaken notion of it. And thirdly, with regard to those 
who treat it as chimerical, and turn it into ridicule. 

In the first place, true honour, though it be a different princi- 
ple from religion, is that which produces the same effects. The 
lines of action, though drawn from different parts, terminate in 
the same point. Religion embraces virtue, as it is enjoined by 
the laws of God ; honour, as it is graceful and ornamental to hu- 
man nature. The religious man fears, the man of honour scorns 
to do an ill action. The one considers vice as something that is 
beneath him, the other as something that is offensive to the Divine 
Being. The one as what is unbecoming, the other as what is 
forbidden. Thus Seneca speaks in the natural and genuine Ian 



494 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 161 

guage of a man of honour, when he declares, that, were there nc 
God to see or punish vice, he would not commit it, because it is 
of so mean, so base, and so vile a nature. 

I shall conclude this head a with the description of honour in 
the part of young Juba. 

Honour's a sacred tie, the law of kings, 

The noble mind's distinguishing perfection, 

That aids and strengthens virtue where it meets her, 

And imitates her actions where she is not, 

It ought not to be sported with Cato. 

In the second place, we are to consider those who have mis- 
taken notions of honour, and these are such as establish any thing 
to themselves for a point of honour, which is coiatrary, either 

a I shall conclude this head. Mr. Addison here applies, and, in applying, 
explains, his own famous verses, in Cato. 

The honour, which the Guardian celebrates in theirs* division of this 
paper, is true honour : so he expressly calls it; and the false is considered 
distinctly under the second head. 

Now true honour, as contrasted to religion, may be well enough given, 
as it is here, under the idea of philosophical or stoical virtue : but, as op- 
posed to false honour, in the days of paganism, it could only be that princi- 
ple, which we call a love of honest fame. This last, then, is Juba's honour 
in his panegyric, as is clear, indeed, from his own words in the close of the 
scene where, speaking of Cato, he says — 

"I'd rather have that man approve my deeds, 
Than worlds for my admirers." 

and what Mr. A. has been describing in this paper, under the name of true 
honour, is pagan virtue itself. It was proper to begin with this observa- 
tion, because it lets us see in what manner, and to what purpose he ap- 
plies Juba's panegyric to the present subject. It is as if he had said, — 
What Juba says of true pagan honour, when compared with stoical virtue, 
holds, in proportion, of stoical virtue, i. e. true philosophical honour, 
when compared with religion. Each is assistant or supplemental to the 
other. 

This being premised, let us now consider the verses themselves. 

Honour, in these verses, means true pagan honour, and is that principle 
of human action, which respects honest fame, that is, the esteem of wise and 
good men : as the virtue celebrated in them, is stoical virtue, which regulates 
itself by the sense of the honestum simply, or, in other words, by self- 
esteem. 

Those principles are clearly distinct from each other, but may subsist 
togoth r ; and, when they do so, they as clearly draw the same way 
Hence, we see, that, the principle of honour must reeds 
»' aid and strengthen virtue where she is," 



^° 161-] THE GUARDIAN. 495 

to the laws of God, or of their country ; who think it more hon- 
ourable to revenge than to forgive an injury : who make no 
scruple of telling a lie, but would put any man to death that ac- 
cuses them of it ; who are more careful to guard their reputation 
by their courage, than by their virtue. True fortitude is, in- 
deed, so becoming in human nature, that he who wants it, scarce 
deserves the name of a man ; but we find several, who so much 
abuse this notion, that they place the whole idea of honour in a 
kind of brutal courage; by which means, we have had many 
among us, who have called themselves men of honour, that would 
have been a disgrace to a gibbet. In a word, the man who sac- 
rifices any duty of a reasonable creature to a prevailing mode or 

i. e. when it associates with her in the same breast ; for it adds its own 
impulse to that of virtue, and in the same direction. It likewise 
" Imitates her actions where she is not," 

i. e. when virtue, properly so called, is not the principle of action; for 
honour, by itself, prompts to the same conduct, which virtue prescribes. 
Honour, then, enforcing the virtuous principle, or doing its work, is, either 
way, a sacred tie, and not to be sported with. 

Such is the natural unforced reasoning of the poet: and that honour 
in the ideas of a Roman, was a different principle from virtue, is further 
manifest, because Rome had temples of both; though the way to the for- 
mer lay through the latter ; by which contrivance was only expressed this 
moral lesson, that the surest means of obtaining the consentient praise of 
the good (so Cicero, somewhere, defines true honour) was, first to secure 
the suffrage of our own hearts. 

Besides, in fact, these two principles governed, separately, in ancient 
Rome. Honour was the ruling principle of Cicero's splendid life ; and 
virtue, of Oato's awful one. Whence it may appear, that virtue is the 
stronger, and steadier principle ; but that honour is qualified to be a good 
second, or even substitute of virtue ; that is, in the poet's words, to aid her 
enthusiasm, or to imitate her actions. 

The conclusion is, that the learned poet has not violated decorum, in 
transferring to Juba the ideas of modern times ; but has made him speak in 
the true Roman style, when he distinguishes between honour and virtue : 
for a distinction, we see, there was ; but not the same which our gothic 
manners have since introduced. 

The mistake might arise from the poet's calling his honour — the law of 
kings — that being the common boast of gothic honour. But he only means 
that pub' 'ic persons are chiefly governed by the law of honour or outward 
esteem ; which of course, is a more obvious, and generally a more binding 
law, to men so employed, than that of virtue, or self-esteem ; the first rule 
of which is — tecum, habit a — a hard injunction to such as are taken up with 
the great affairs of the world. 



496 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 161 

fashion, who looks upon any thing as honourable that is dis- 
pleasing to his Maker, or destructive to society, who thinks him- 
self obliged by this principle to the practice of some virtues and 
not of others, is, by no means, to be reckoned among true men of 
honour. 

Timogenes was a lively instance of one actuated by false 
honour. Timogenes would smile at a man's jest, who ridiculed 
his Maker, and, at the same time, run a man through the body, 
that spoke ill of his friend. Timogenes would have scorned to 
have betrayed a a secret that was intrusted with him, though the 
fate of his country depended upon the discovery of it. Timo- 
genes took away the life of a young fellow, in a duel, for having 
spoken ill of Belinda, a lady whom he himself had seduced in 
her youth, and betrayed into want and ignominy. To close his 
character, Timogenes, after having rumed several poor trades- 
men's families, who had trusted him, sold his estate to satisfy his 
creditors ; but, like a man of honour, disposed of all the money 
he could make of it, in the paying off his play-debts, b or. to speak 
in his own language, his debts of honour. 

In the third place, we are to consider those persons who treat 
this principle as chimerical, and turn it into ridicule. Men who 
are professedly of no honour, are of a more profligate and aban 
doned nature than even those who are acted by false notions of it, 
as there is more hopes of a heretic than of an atheist. These 
sons of infamy consider honour, with old Syphax, in the play be- 
fore-mentioned, as a fine imaginary notion, that leads astray young 
unexperienced men, and draws them into real mischiefs, while 
they are engaged in the pursuits of a shadow. These are gene- 

a To have betrayed. Jt should have been, to betray. 

b In the paying off his play-debts. He should have said — in the paying 
off of his play-debts- — or, rather, to avoid the offensive sound — off of — in 
■paying off his play-debts; that is, paying should be a participle, property 
so called, and not a substantive, as it is, when preceded by the article. 



No 162.] THE GUARDIAN 497 

rally, persons., who, in Shakespear's phrase l are worn and hack- 
ney'd in the ways of men ; ' whose imaginations are grown callous, 
and have lost all those delicate sentiments which are natural to 
minds that are innocent and undepraved. Such old battered 
miscreants ridicule every thing as romantic, that comes in com- 
petition with their present interest, and treat those persons as 
visionaries, who dare stand up in a corrupt age, for what has not 
its immediate reward joined to it. The talents, interest, or ex- 
perience of such men, make them very often useful in all parties, 
and at all times. But whatever wealth and dignities they may 
arrive at, they ought to consider, that every one stands as a blot 
in the annals of his country, who arrives at the temple of Honour, 
by any other way than through that of Virtue. 



No. 162. WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 16. 

Proprium hoc esse prudentwe, conciliare sibi animos hoaiinum et ad usus suos pxljungere. 

Ciceeo. 

I was the other day in company at my Lady Lizard's, when 
there came in among us their cousin Tom, who is one of those 
country 'squires, that set up for plain honest gentlemen who 
speak their minds. Tom is, in short, a lively impudent clown, 
and has wit enough to have made him a pleasant companion, had 
it been polished and rectified by good-manners. Tom had not 
been a quarter of an hour with us, before he set every one in the 
company a blushing, by some blunt question, or unlucky observa 
tion. He asked the Sparkler if her wit had yet got her a hus 
band : and told her eldest sister she looked a little wan under 
the eyes, and that it was time for her to look about her, if she 
did not design to lead apes in the other world. The good Lady 



498 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 162. 

Lizard, who suffers more than her daughters on such an occasion, 
desired her cousin Thomas, with a smile, not to be so severe on 
his relations : to which the booby replied, with a rude country 
laugh, * If I be not mistaken, aunt, you were a mother at fifteen, 
and why do you expect that your daughters should be maids till 
five and twenty ? ' I endeavoured to divert the discourse, when, 
without taking notice of what I said, ' Mr. Ironside,' says he, 
you fill my cousins heads with your fine notions as you call 
them, can you teach them to make a pudding ? ' I must confess 
he put me out of couDtenance with his rustic raillery, so that I 
made some excuse, and left the room. 

This fellow's behaviour made me reflect on the usefulness of 
complaisance, to make all conversation agreeable. This, though 
in itself it be scarce reckoned in the number of moral virtues, is 
that which gives a lustre to every talent a man can be possessed 
of. It was Plato's advice to an unpolished writer, that he should 
sacrifice to the graces. In the 'same manner, I would advise 
every man of learning, who would not appear in the world a mere 
scholar, or philosopher, to make himself master of the social vir- 
tue which I have here mentioned. 

Complaisance renders a superior amiable, an equal agreeable, 
and an inferior acceptable. It smooths distinction, sweetens con- 
versation, and makes every one in the company pleased with 
himself. It produces good-nature and mutual benevolence, en- 
courages the timorous, sooths the turbulent, humanizes the fierce, 
and distinguishes a society of civilized persons from a confusion 8 
of savages. In a word, complaisance is a virtue that blends al 
orders of men together in a friendly intercourse of words an<_ 
actions, and is suited to that equality in human nature, which 

a Confusion. The abstract idea is here out of place He meant, and 
should have said — a rout of savages. 



No. 162.] THE GUARDIAN. 499 

every one ought to consider, so far as is consistent with the order 
and osconomy of the world. 

If we could look into the secret anguish and affliction of every 
man's heart, we should often find, that more of it arises from 
little imaginary distresses, such as checks, frowns, contradictions, 
expressions of contempt, and (what Shakespear reckons among 
other evils under the sun) 

The poor man's contumely, 



The insolence of office, and the spurns 
That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 

than from the more real pains and calamities of life. The only 
method to remove these imaginary distresses, as much as possible, 
out of human life, would be the universal practice of such an in- 
genuous complaisance as I have been here describing, which, as 
it is a virtue, may be defined to be, ' a constant endeavour to 
please those whom we converse with, so far as we may do it in- 
nocently.' I shall here add, that I know nothing so effectual to 
raise a man's fortune as complaisance, which recommends more 
to the favour of the great, than wit, knowledge, or any other 
talent whatsoever. I find this consideration very prettily illus- 
trated by a little wild Arabian tale, which I shall here abridge, 
for the sake of my reader, after having again warned him, that I 
do not recommend to him such an impertinent or vicious com- 
plaisance as is not consistent with honour and integrity. 

" Schacabac being reduced to great poverty, and having eat 
nothing for two days together, made a visit to a noble Barme- 
cide in Persia, who was very hospitable, but withal a great hu 
mourist. The Barmecide was sitting at his table, that seemed 
ready covered for an entertainment. Upon hearing Schacabac's 
complaint, he desired him to sit down and fall on. He then 
gave him an empty plate, and asked him how he liked his rice- 



500 THE GUARDIAN. L No. 162. 

soup ? Schacabac, who was a man of wit, and resolved to comply 
with the Barmecide in all his humours, told him it was admira- 
ble, and at the same time, in imitation of the other, lifted up the 
empty spoon to his mouth with great pleasure. The Barmecide 
then asked him, if he ever saw whiter bread ? Schacabac, who 
saw neither bread nor meat, ' If I did not like it, you may be 
sure, (says he.) I should not eat so heartily of it. 1 ' You oblige 
me mightily, (replied the Barmecide,) pray let me help you to 
this leg of a goose.' Schacabac reached out his plate, and re- 
ceived nothing on it with great cheerfulness. As he was eat- 
ing very heartily on this imaginary goose, »and crying up the 
sauce to the skies, the Barmecide desired him to keep a corner 
of his stomach for a roasted lamb, fed with pistacho nuts, and 
after having called for it, as though it had really been served up, 
1 Here is a dish, (says he,) that you will see at nobody's table 
but my own.' Schacabac was wonderfully delighted with the 
taste of it, which is like nothing, says he, I ever eat before. 
Several other nice dishes were served up in idea, which both of 
them commended and feasted on after the same manner. This 
was followed by an invisible desert, no part of which delighted 
Schacabac so much as a certain lozenge, which the Barmecide 
told him was a sweetmeat of his own invention. Schacabac at 
length, being courteously reproached by the Barmecide, that he 
had no stomach, and that he eat nothing, and, at the same time, 
being tired with moving his jaws up and down to no purpose, 
desired to be excused, for that really he was so full he could not 
eat a bit more. l Come then, (says the Barmecide,) the cloth 
shall be removed, and you shall taste of my wines, which I may 
say, without vanity, are the best in Persia.' He then filled both 
their glasses out of an empty decanter. Schacabac would have 
excused liimself from drinking so much at once, because he said 
he was a little quarrelsome in his liquor ; however, being pressed 



No. 163.] THE GUARDIAN. 501 

to it, he pretended to take it off, having beforehand praised the 
colour, and afterwards the flavour. Being plied with two or 
three other imaginary bumpers of different wines, equally de- 
licious, and a little vexed with this fantastic treat, he pretended 
to grow flustered, and gave the Barmecide a good box on the 
-ar, but immediately recovering himself, ' Sir, (says he,) I beg 
ten thousand pardons ; but I told you before, that it was my 
misfortune to be quarrelsome in my drink.' The Barmecide 
could not but smile at the humour of his guest, and instead of 
being angry at him, ' I find, (says he,) thou art a complaisant 
fellow, and deservest to be entertained in my house. Since thou 
canst accommodate thyself to my humour, we will now eat to- 
gether in good earnest.' Upon which, calling for his supper, the 
rice-soup, the goose, the pistacho-lamb, the several other nice 
dishes, with the desert, the lozeDges, and all the variety of 
Persian wines, were served up successively, one after another : 
and Schacabac was feasted in reality, with those very things 
which he had before been entertained with in imagination. 



No. 163. TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 16. 

— miserum est aliena vivere quadra. — Jut. 

When I am disposed to give myself a day's rest, I order 
the lion to be opened, and search into the magazine of intelligence 
for such letters as are to my purpose. The first I looked into, 
comes to me from one who is chaplain to a great family. He 
treats himself, in the beginning of it, after such a manner, as, I 
am persuaded, no man of sense would treat him. 1 Even the 

1 The picture of the chaplain in this number is a full confirmation of 
the sketch in Macaulay's Hist, of Eng. Chap. 116. —G. 



502 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 16* 

lawyer and the physician, to a man of quality, expect to be used 
like gentlemen, and much more may any one of so superior a pro- 
fession. I am by no means for encouraging that dispute, whether 
the chaplain or the master of the house be the better man, and 
the more to be respected. The two learned authors, Dr. Hicks 
and Mr. Collier, to whom I might add several others, are to be 
excused, if they have carried the point a little too high in favour 
of the chaplain, since, in so corrupt an age as that we live in, the 
popular opinion runs so far into the other extreme. The only 
controversy, between the patron and the chaplain, ought to be, 
which should promote the good designs and interests of each 
other most ; and, for my own part, I think it is the happiest cir- 
cumstance, in a great estate or title, that it qualifies a man for 
chusing, out of such a learned and valuable body of men as that 
of the English clergy, a friend, a spiritual guide, and a companion. 
The letter I have received from one of this order, is as follows : 

" Mr. Guardian, 

" I hope you will not only indulge me in the liberty of two 
or three questions, but also in the solution of them. 

" I have had the honour, many years, of being chaplain to a 
noble family, and of being accounted the highest servant in the 
house, either out of respect to my cloth, or because I lie in the 
uppermost garret. 

" Whilst my old lord lived, his table was always adorned with 
useful learning and innocent mirth, as well as covered with plenty. 
I was not looked upon as a piece of furniture fit only to sanctify 
and garnish a feast, but treated as a gentleman, and generally 
desired to fill up the conversation, an hour after I had done my 
duty. But now my young lord is come to the estate, I find I am 
looked upon as a censor morum, an obstacle to mirth and talk, 
and suffered to retire constantly, with ' Prosperity to the church 



No. 163.] THE GUARDIAN. 503 

in my mouth. I declare solemnly, sir, that I have heard nothing 
from all the fine gentlemen who visit us, more remarkable, for 
half a year, than that one young lord was seven times drunk at 
Grenoa, and another had an affair with a famous courtesan at 
Venice. I have lately taken the liberty to stay three or four 
rounds beyond the church, to see what topics of discourse they 
went upon, but, to my great surprise, have hardly heard a word 
all the time besides the toasts. Then they all stare full in my 
face, and shew all the actions of uneasiness till I am gone. Im- 
mediately upon my departure, to use the words in an old com- 
edy, ' I find, by the noise they make, that they had a mind to 
be private.' I am at a loss to imagine what conversation they 
have among one another, which I may not be present at, since I 
love innocent mirth as much as any of them, and am shocked with 
no freedoms whatsoever, which are consistent with Christianity. 
I have, with much ado, maintained my post hitherto at the dessert, 
and every day eat tart in the face of my patron, but how long I 
shall be invested with this privilege I do not know. For the 
servants, who do not see me supported as I was in my old lord's 
time, begin to brush very familiarly by me, and thrust aside my 
chair, when they set the sweetmeats on the table. I have been born 
and educated a gentleman, and desire you will make the public 
sensible, that the Christian priesthood was never thought, in any 
age or country, to debase the man who is a member of it. Among 
the great services which your useful papers daily do to religion, 
this, perhaps, will not be the least, and will lay a very great obli- 
gation on your unknown servant, 

" a. W." 

a Venerable Nestor, 
11 I was very much pleased with your paper of the 7th in 
etant, in which you recommend the stud) «* d&eful knowledge to 



504 



THE GUARDIAN. 



[No. 16a 



women of quality or fortune. I have since that, met with a very 
elegant poem, written by the famous Sir Thomas More ; it is in- 
scribed to a friend of his, who was then seeking out a wife : he 
advises him, on that occasion, to overlook wealth and beauty, 
and, if he desires a happy life, to join himself with a woman of 
virtue and knowledge. His words on this last head are as 
follow : 



Proculque stulta sit 
Parvis labellulis 
Semper loquacitas, 
Proculque rusticum 
Semper silentium. 
Sit ilia vel modo 
Instructa literis, 
Vel talis ut modo 
Sit apta literis. 
Felix, quibus bene 
Priscis ab omnibus 
Possit libellulis 
Yitam beantia 
Haurire dogmata. 
Armata cum quibus, 
Nee ilia prosperis 
Superba turgeat, 
Nee ilia turbidis 
Misella lugeat 
Prostrata casibus. 
Jucunda sic erit 
Semper, nee unquam erit 
Gravis, molestave 
Vitae comes tuae, 
Quas docta parvulos 
Docebit et tuos 
Cum lacte literas 
Olim nepotulo9. 
Jam te juvaverit 
Viros relinquere, 
Doctaeque conjugis 
Sinu quiesceTt, 
Dum grata te f o ***t 



Manuque mobili 
Dum plectra person at 
Et voce (qua nee est 
Progne soroculae 
Suae suavior) 
Amaena cantilat 
Apollo quae velit 
Audire carmina. 
Jam te juvaverit 
Sermone blandulo, 
Docto tamen dies 
Noctesque ducere, 
Notare verbula 
Mellita maximis 
Non absque gratiis 
Ab ore melleo 
Semper fluentia, 
Quibus coerceat 
Si quando te levet 
Inane gaudium: 
Quibus levaverit 
Si quando deprimat 
Te maeror anxius. 
Certabit in quibus 
Summa eloqueutia 
Jam cum omnium gravi 
Rerum scientia. 
Talem olim ego putem 
Et vatis Orphei 
Fuisse conjugem, 
Nee unquam ab inferis 
Curasset improbo 
Lahore feeminaui 



K* 163.1 THE GUARDIAN 50* 

Referre msticara. Quo nemo doctior) 

Talemque credimus Fuisse Tulliam : 

Nasonis inclitam, Talisque quae tulit 

Quae vel patrem queat Gracchos duos, fuit, 

Square carmine Quae quos tulit, bonis 

Fuisse filiam. Instruxit artibus : 

Talemque suspicor Nee profuit minus 

(Qua nulla eharior Magistra quam parens. 
Unquam fuit patii 

The sense of this elegant description is as follows . 

"May you meet with a wife who is not always stupidly silent 
nor always prattling nonsense ! May she be learned, if possible, 
or at least capable of being made so ! A woman thus accom- 
plished will be always drawing sentences and maxims of virtue 
out of the best authors of antiquity. She will be herself in all 
changes of fortune, neither blown up in prosperity, nor broken 
with adversity. You will find in her an even, cheerful, good- 
humoured friend, and an agreeable companion for life. She will 
infuse knowledge into your children with their milk, and from 
their infancy train them up to wisdom. Whatever company you 
are engaged in, you will long to be at home, and retire with de- 
light from the society of men, into the bosom of one who is so 
dear, so knowing, and so amiable. If she touches her lute, or 
sings to it any of her own compositions, her voice will soothe you 
in your solitudes, and sound more sweetly in your ear than that 
of the nightingale. You will waste with pleasure whole days 
and nights in her conversation, and be ever finding out new beau- 
ties in her discourse. She will keep your mind in perpetual 
serenity, restrain its mirth from being dissolute, and prevent its 
melancholy from being painful. 

" Such was, doubtless, the wife of Orpheus ; for who would 

have undergone what he did to have recovered a foolish bride ? 

Sucn was the daughter of Ovid, who was his rival in poetry. 

Such was Tullia, as she is celebrated by the most learned an3 

vol. iv. — 22 



0'5(3 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 16^ 

the most fond of fathers. And such was the mother of the two 
Gracchi, who is no less famous for having been their instructor 
than their parent." 



No. 165. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 19. 

Decipit exemplar, vitiis imitabile. — Hob. 

It is a melancholy thing to see a coxcomb at the head of a 
family. He scatters infection through the whole house. His 
wife and children have always their eyes upon him : if they have 
more sense than himself, they are out of countenance for him ; if 
less, they submit their understandings to him, and make daily im- 
provements in folly and impertinence. I have been very often 
secretly concerned, when I have seen a circle of pretty children 
cramped in their natural parts, and prattling even below them- 
selves, while they are talking after a couple of silly parents. The 
dulness of a father often extinguishes a genius in the son, or 
gives such a wrong cast to his mind, as it is hard for him ever to 
wear off. In short, where the head of a family is weak, you hear 
the repetitions of his insipid pleasantries, shallow conceits, and 
topical points of mirth, in every member of it. His table, his 
fire-side, his parties of diversion, are all of them so many stand- 
ing scenes of folly. 

This is one reason why I would the more recommend the 
improvements of the mind to my female readers, that a family 
may have a double chance for it, and if it meets with weakness 
in one of the heads, may have it made up in the other. It is in- 
deed an unhappy circumstance in a family, where the wife has 
more knowledge than the husband ; but it is better it should be 
»o, than that there should be no knowledge in the whole house. 



No. 165.] THE GUARDIAN. 507 

It is highly expedient that at least one of the persons, who sits" 
at the helm of affairs, should give an example of good sense to 
those who are under them in these little domestic governments. 

If folly is of ill consequence in the head of a family, vice is 
much more so, as it is of a more pernicious and of a more con- 
tagious nature. When the master is a profligate, the rake runs 
through the house. You hear the sons talking loosely and 
swearing after their father, and see the daughters either familiar- 
ized to his discourse, or every moment blushing for him. 

The very footman will be a fine gentleman in his master's 
way. He improves by his table-talk, and repeats in the kitchen 
what he learns in the parlour. Invest him with the same title 
and ornaments, and you would scarce know him from his lord. 
He practises the same oaths, the same ribaldry, the same way of 
joking. 

It is therefore of very great concern to a family, that the 
ruler of it should be wise and virtuous. The first of these 
qualifications does not, indeed, lie, within his power ; but 
though a man cannot abstain from being weak, he may from 
being vicious. It is in his power to give a good example of 
modesty, of temperance, of frugality, of religion, and of all 
other virtues, which, though the greatest ornaments of human 
nature, may be put in practice by men of the most ordinary 
capacities. 

As wisdom and virtue are the proper qualifications in the 
master of a house, if he is not accomplished in both of them, it 
is much better that he should be deficient in the former than in 
the latter, since the consequences of vice are of an infinitely more 
dangerous nature than those of folly. 

When I read the histories that are left us of Pythagoras, I 
saunot but take notice of the extraordinary influence which that 
a Who sits — better who sit. 



£08 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 168. 

great philosopher, who was an illustrious pattern of virtue and 
wisdom, had on his private family. This excellent man, after 
having perfected himself in the learning of his own country, 
travelled into all the known parts of the world, on purpose to 
converse with the most learned men of every place ; by which 
means he gleaned up all the knowledge of the age, and is still ad- 
mired by the greatest men of the present times, as a prodigy of 
science. His wife Theano wrote several books; and after his 
death, taught his philosophy in his public school, which was fre- 
quented by numberless disciples of different countries. There 
are several excellent sayings recorded of her. I shall only men- 
tion one, because it does honour to her virtue, as well as to her 
wisdom. Being asked by some of her sex, in how long a time a 
woman might be allowed to pray to the gods, after having con- 
versed with a man ? ' If it were her husband, (says she) the 
next day; if a stranger, never.' Phythagoras had by his wife 
6wo sons and three daughters. His two sons, Telauges and 
Mnesarchus, were both eminent philosophers, and were joined 
with their mother in the government of the Pythagorean school. 
Arignote was one of his daughters, whose writings were extant, 
and very much admired in the age of Pqrphyrius. Damo was 
another of his daughters, in whose hands Pythagoras left his 
works, with a prohibition to communicate them to strangers, 
which she observed to the hazard of her life ; and though she 
was offered a great sum for them, rather chose to live in poverty, 
than not obey the commands of her beloved father. Myia was 
the third of the daughters, whose works and history were very 
famous, even in Lucian's time. She was so signally virtu- 
ous, that for her unblemished behaviour in her virginity, she 
was chosen to lead up the chorus of maids in a national solem- 
nity ; and for her exemplary conduct in marriage, was placed at 
the hf ad of all the matrons, in the like public ceremony. The 



No. 166.] THE GUARDIAN. 509 

memory of this learned woman was so precious among her coun- 
trymen, that her house was, after her death, converted into a 
temple, and the street she lived in, called by the name of the 
Musseum. Nor must I omit, whilst I am mentioning this 
great philosopher under his character as the master of a family, 
that two of his servants so improved themselves under him, 
that they were instituted into his sect, and make an emi- 
nent figure in the list of Pythagoreans. The names of these 
two servants were Astrseus and Zamolxes. This single example 
sufficiently shows us both the influence and the merit of one who 
discharges as he ought the office of a good master of a family ; 
which, if it were well observed in every house, would quickly 
put an end to that universal depravation of manners, by which 
the present age is so much distinguished; and which is a more 
easy to lament than to reform. 



No. 166. MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 21. 

Aliquisque malo fuit usus in illo.— Ov. Met. 



Charity is a virtue of the heart, and not of the hands, says 
an old writer. Gifts and alms are the expressions, not the es- 
sence of this virtue. A man may bestow great sums on the poor 
and indigent, without being charitable, and may be charitable 
when he is not able to bestow any thing. Charity is therefore a 
habit of good will or benevolence, in the soul, which disposes us to 
the love assistance, and relief of mankind, especially of those who 
stand in need of it. The poor m&n who has this excellent frame 
of mind, is no less entitled to the reward of this virtue, than the 
man who founds a college. For my own part, I am charitable to 

a Which is. It, is understood before is, and should lave been expressed 



5S0 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 166 

an extravagance this way. I never saw an indigent person in my 
life, without reaching out to him some of this imaginary relief. I 
cannot but sympathize with every one I meet that is in affliction ; 
and if my abilities were equal to my wishes, there should be neither 
pain nor poverty in the world. 

To give my reader a right notion of myself in this particular, 
I shall present him with the secret history of one of the most re- 
markable parts of my life. 

I was once engaged in search of the philosopher's stone. 1 It 
is frequently observed of men who have been busied in this pur- 
suit, that though they have failed in their principal design, they 
have, however, made such discoveries in their way to it, as have 
sufficiently recompensed their inquiries. In the same manner, 
though I cannot boast of my success in that affair, I do not repent 
of my engaging in it, because it produced in my mind, such an 
habitual exercise of charity, as made it much better than perhaps 
it would have been, had I never been lost in so pleasing a de- 
lusion. 

As I did not question but I should soon have a new Indies 
in my possession, I was perpetually taken up in considering how 
to turn it to the benefit of mankind. In order to it I employed 
a whole day in walking about this great city, to find out proper 
places for the erection of hospitals. I had likewise entertained 
that project which has since succeeded in another place, of build- 
ing churches at the court end of the town, with this only differ- 
ence, that instead of fifty, I intended to have built a hundred, and 
to have seen them all finished in less than one year. 

I had, with great pains and application, got together a list of 
all the French Protestants ; 2 and by the best accounts I could 
come at, had calculated the value of all those estates and effects 

1 Of Steele this was literally true. — G-. 

3 Brought into England by the revocation of the edict of Nantes. — G, 



N° 166.] THE GUARDIAN. 5H 

which every one of them had left in his own country for the sako 
of his religion, being fully determined tc make it up to him, and 
return some of them the double of what they had lost. 

As I was one day in my laboratory, my operator, who was to 
fill my coffers for me, and used to foot it from the other end of 
the town every morning, complained of a sprain in his leg, that 
he had met with over against St. Clement's church. This so af- 
fected me, that, as a standing mark of my gratitude to him, and 
out of compassion to the rest of my fellow-citizens, I resolved to 
new pave every street within the liberties, and entered a memo- 
randum in my pocket-book accordingly. About the same time I 
entertained some thoughts of mending all the highways on this 
side the Tweed, and of making all the rivers in England navigable. 

But the project I had most at heart, was the settling upon 
every man in Great-Britain, three pounds a year, (in which sum 
may be comprised, according to Sir William Pettit's observa- 
tions, all the necessities of life) leaving to them whatever else 
they could get by their own industry, to lay out on superfluities. 

I was above a week debating in myself what I should do in 
the matter of Impropriations ; but at length came to a resolution 
to buy them all up, and restore them to the church. 

As I was one day walking near St. Paul's, I took some time 
to survey that structure, and not being entirely satisfied with it, 
though I could not tell why, I had some thoughts of pulling it 
down, and building it up anew at my own expence. 

For my own part, as I have no pride in me, I intended to take 
up with a coach and six. half a dozen footmen, and live like a 
private gentleman. 

It happened about this time that public matters looked very 
gloomy, taxes came hard, the war went on heavily, people com- 
plained of the great burthens that were laid upon them : this 
made me resolve to set aside one morning, to consider seriously the 



512 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 166 

state of the nation. I was the more ready to inter on it, because 
I was obliged, whether I would or no, to sit at home in my morn- 
ing gown, having, after a most incredible expence, pawned a new 
suit of clothes, and a full-bottomed wig, for a sum of money which 
my operator assured me was the last he should want to bring all 
matters to bear. 

After having considered many projects, I at length resolved 
to beat the common enemy at his own weapons, and laid a scheme 
which would have blown him up in a quarter of a year, had things 
succeeded to my wishes. As I was in this golden dream, some- 
body knocked at my door. I opened it, and found it was a mes- 
senger that brought me a letter from the laboratory. The fellow 
looked so miserably poor, that I was resolved to make his fortune 
before he delivered his message : but seeing he brought a letter 
from my operator, I concluded I was bound to it in honour, as 
much as a prince is to give a reward to one that brings him the 
first news of a victory. I knew this was the long expected hour 
of projection, and which I had waited for, with great impatience, 
above half a year before. In short, I broke open my letter "in a 
transport of joy, and found it as follows. 

" Sir, 
il After having got out of you every thing you can conveni- 
ently spare, I scorn to trespass upon your generous nature, and. 
therefore, must ingenuously confess to you, that I know no more of 
the philosopher's stone than you do. I shall only tell you for your 
comfort, that I never yet could bubble a blockhead out of his 
money. They must be men of wit and parts who are for my pur- 
pose. This made me apply myself to a person of your wealth and 
ingenuity. How I have succeeded, you yourself can best tell. 

" Your humble servant to command, 

" Thomas White." 



Nf 167.] THE GUARDIAN. 513 

" I have locked up the laboratory, and laid the key under the 
door." 

I was very much shocked at the unworthy treatment of this 
man, and not a little mortified at my disappointment, though not 
so much for what I myself, as what the public, suffered by it. I 
think, however, I ought to let the world know what I designed 
for them, and hope that such of my readers who find they had a 
share in my good intentions, will accept of the will for the deed 



No. 167. TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 22. 

Fata vlam invenient Vibg. 

The following story is lately translated out of an Arabian 
manuscript, which I think has very much the turn of an oriental 
tale, and as it has never before been printed, I question not but 
it will be acceptable to my reader. 

The name of Helim is still famous through all the eastern parts 
of the world. He is called among the Persians, even to this day, 
Helim the great physician. He was acquainted with all the 
powers of simples, understood all the influences of the stars, and 
knew the secrets that were engraved on the seal of Solomon the 
son of David. Helim was also governor of the black palace, and 
chief of the physicians to Alnareschin the great king of Persia. 

Alnareschin was the most dreadful tyrant that ever reigned in 
his country. He was of a fearful, suspicious, and cruel nature, 
having put to death upon very slight jealousies and surmises, 
five and thirty of his queens, and above twenty sons, whom he 
susf ected to have conspired against his life. Being at length 
vol. iv. — 22* 



5U THE GUARDIAN. [No. 16f 

wearied with the exercise of so many cruelties in his own family, 
and fearing lest the whole race of caliphs should be entirely lost, 
he one day sent for Helim, and spoke to him after this manner. 
' Helira, (said he) I have long admired thy great wisdom, and re- 
tired way of living. I shall now show thee the entire confidence 
which I place in thee. I have only two sons remaining, who are 
yet but infants. It is my design that thou take them home with 
thee, and educate them as thy own. Train them up in the hum- 
ble unambitious pursuits after knowledge. By this means shall 
the line of caliphs be preserved, and my children succeed after 
me, without aspiring to my throne whilst I am yet alive.' 
1 The words of my lord the king shall be obeyed,' said Helim. 
After which he bowed, and went out of the king's presence. He 
then received the children into his own house, and from that time 
bred them up with him in the studies of knowledge and virtue. 
The young princes loved and respected Helim as their father, 
and made such improvements under him, that by the age of one 
and twenty, they were instructed in all the learning of the East. 
The name of the eldest was Ibrahim, and of the youngest Abdal- 
lah. They lived together in such a perfect friendship, that to 
this day it is said of intimate friends, that they live together like 
Ibrahim and Abdallah. Helim had an only child, who was a 
girl of a fine soul, and a most beautiful person. Her fathei 
omitted nothing in her education, that might make her the most 
accomplished woman of her age. As the young princes were in a 
manner excluded from the rest of the world, they frequently con- 
versed with this lovely virgin, who had been brought up by her 
father in the same course of knowledge and of virtue. Abdallah, 
whose mind was of a softer turn than that of his brother, grew 
by degrees so enamouied of her conversation, that he did not 
think he lived when he was not in company with his beloved 
Balsora, for that was the name of the maid. The fame of her 



No. 167.] THE GUARDIAN. 515 

beauty was so great, that at length it came to the ears of the 
king, who, pretending to, visit the young princes his sons, de- 
manded of Helim the sight of Balsora, his fair daughter. The 
king was so inflamed with her beauty and behaviour, that he 
sent for Helim the next morning, and told him it was now his 
design to recompense him for all his faithful services : and that 
in order to it, he intended to make his daughter queen of Persia. 
Helim, who knew very well the fate of all those unhappy women 
who had been thus advanced, and could not but be privy to the se- 
cret love which Abdallah bore his daughter, ' Far be it, (said he) 
from the king of Persia to contaminate the blood of the caliphs, 
and join himself in marriage with the daughter of his physician.' 
The king, however, was so impatient for such a bride, that, with- 
out hearing any excuses, he immediately ordered Balsora to be 
sent for into his presence, keeping the father with him, in or- 
der to make her sensible of the honour which he designed her. 
Balsora, who was too modest and humble to think her beauty 
had made such an impression on the king, was a few moments 
after brought into his presence as he had commanded. 

She appeared in the king's eye as one of the virgins of Para- 
dise. But, upon hearing the honour which he intended her, she 
fainted away, and fell down as dead at his feet. Helim wept, 
and, after having recovered her out of the trance into which she 
was fallen, represented to the king, that so unexpected an hon- 
our was too great to have been communicated to her all at once ; 
but that, if he pleased, he would himself prepare her for it. The 
king bid him take his own way, and dismissed him. Balsora was 
conveyed again to her father's house, where the thoughts of Ab- 
dallah renewed her affliction every moment : insomuch, that at 
length she fell into a raging fever. The king was informed of 
her condition by those that saw her. Helim, finding no other 
means of extricating her from the difficulties she was in, after 



516 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 167 

having composed her mind, and made her acquainted with his in- 
tentions, gave her a potion, which he knew would lay her asleep 
for many hours ; and afterwards, in all the seeming distress of a 
disconsolate father, informed the king she was dead. The king, 
who never let any sentiments of humanity come too near his 
heart, did not much trouble himself about the matter : however, 
for his own reputation, he told the father, that since it was known 
through the empire, that Balsora died at a time when he designed 
her for his bride, it was his intention that she should be honour- 
ed as such after her death, that her body should be laid in the 
Black Palace, among those of his deceased queens. 

In the mean time, Abdallah, who had heard of the king's de- 
sign, was not less afflicted than his beloved Balsora. As for the 
several circumstances of his distress, as also how the king was in- 
formed of an irrecoverable distemper into which he was fallen, 
they are to be found at length in the history of Helim. It shall 
suffice to acquaint my reader, that Helim, some days after the 
supposed death of his daughter, gave the prince a potion of the 
same nature with that which had laid asleep Balsora. 

It is the custom among the Persians, to convey, in a private 
manner, the bodies of all the royal family, a little after their 
death, into the Black Palace ; which is the repository of all who 
are descended from the caliphs, or any way allied to them. The 
chief physician is always governor of the Black Palace, it being 
his office to embalm and preserve the holy family after they are 
dead, as well as to take care of them while they are yet living. 
The Black Palace is so called, from the colour of the building, 
which is all of the finest polished black marble. There are al- 
ways burning in it five thousand everlasting lamps. It has alsc 
a hundred folding doors of ebony, which are each of them 
watched day and night by a hundred negroes, who are to take 
care that nobody enters, besides the governor. 



No.167.] THE GUARDIAN. 517 

Helim after having conveyed the body of his daughter into 
this repository, and at the appointed time received her out of the 
sleep into which she was fallen, took care, some time after, to 
bring that of Abdallah into the same place. Balsora watched 
over him, till such time as the dose he had taken lost its effect. 
Abdallah was not acquainted with Helim's design when he gave 
him this sleepy potion. It is impossible to describe the surprise, 
the joy, the transport, he was in at his first waking. He fancied 
himself in the retirements of the blessed, and that the spirit of 
his dear Balsora, who he thought was just gone before him, was 
the first who came to congratulate his arrival. She soon in- 
formed him of the place he was in, which, notwithstanding all 
its horrors, appeared to him more sweet than the bower of Ma- 
homet, in the company of his Balsora. 

Helim, who was supposed to be taken up in the embalming 
of the bodies, visited the place very frequently. His greatest 
perplexity was how to get the lovers out of the gates, being 
watched in such a manner as I have before related. This con- 
sideration did not a little disturb the two interred lovers. At 
length Helim bethought himself, that the first day of the full 
moon, of the month Tizpa, was near at hand. Now it is a re- 
ceived tradition among the Persians, that the souls of those of 
the royal family, who are in a state of bliss, do on the first full 
moon after their decease, pass through the eastern gate of the 
Black Palace, which is therefore called the gate of Paradise, in 
order to take their flight for that happy place. Helim, there- 
fore, having made due preparations for this night, dressed each 
of the lovers in a robe of azure silk, wrought in the finest looms 
of Persia, with a long train of linen whiter than snow, that 
floated on the ground behind them. Upon Abdallah's head he 
fixed a wreath of the greenest myrtle, and on Balsora's a gar 
land of the freshest roses. Their garments were scented with 



5 J 8 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 167 

the richest perfumes of Arabia. Having thus prepared every 
thing, the full moon was no sooner up, and shining in all its 
brightness, but a he privately opened the gate of Paradise, and 
shut it after the same manner, as soon as they had passed 
through it. The band of negroes, who were posted at a little 
distance from the gate, seeing two such beautiful apparitions, 
that showed themselves to advantage by the light of the full 
moon, and being ravished with the odour that flowed from their 
garments, immediately concluded them to be the ghosts of the 
two persons lately deceased. They fell upon their faces as the/ 
passed through the midst of them, and continued prostrate on 
the earth, till such time as they were out of sight. They re- 
ported the next day what they had seen ; but this was looked 
upon, by the king himself, and most others, as the compliment 
that was usually paid to any of the deceased of his family. 
Helim had placed two of his own mules at about a mile's distance 
from the black temple, on the spot which they had agreed upon 
for their rendezvous. 1 * He here met them, and conducted them 
to one of his own houses, which was situated on mount Khacan. 
The air on this mountain was so very healthful, that Helim had 
formerly transported the king thither, in order to recover him 
out of a long fit of sickness ; which succeeded so well, that the 
king made him a present of the whole mountain, with a beautiful 
house and gardens that were on the top of it. In this retire- 
ment lived Abdallah and Balsora. They were both so fraught 
with all kinds of knowledge, and possessed with so constant and 
mutual a passion for each other, that their solitude never lay 
heavy on them. Abdallah applied himself to those arts which 

a But. Fill up the sentence thus — the full- moon was no sooner up, ana 
shining in all its brightness [than he did not lose the opportunity,] but ht 
privately opened, &c See note on Spectator, No. 535. 

b Rendezvous. I Inow not how this Avord came to make its fortun~ in 
our language. It is of ar awkward and ill construction, even ir the 
French. 



No. 167.] THE GUARDIAN. 519 

were agreeable to his manner of living, and the situation of the 
place, insomuch, that in a few years he converted the whole 
mountain into a kind of garden, and covered every part of it 
with plantations or spots of flowers. Helim was too good a 
father to let him want any thing that might conduce to make his 
retirement pleasant. 

In about ten years after their abode in this place the old 
king died, and was succeeded by his son Ibrahim, who, upon the 
supposed death of his brother, had been called to court, and en- 
tertained there as heir to the Persian empire. Though he was, 
for some years, inconsolable for the death of his brother, Helim 
durst not trust him with the secret, which he knew would havr 
fatal consequences, should it, by any means, come to the*knowl 
edge of the old king. Ibrahim was no sooner mounted to the 
throne, but Helim sought after a proper opportunity of making 
a discovery to him, which he knew would be very agreeable to so 
good-natured and generous a prince. It so happened, that before 
Helim found such an opportunity as he desired, the new king 
Ibrahim, having been separated from his company in a chase, 
and almost fainting with heat and thirst, saw himself at the foot 
of mount Khacan; he immediately ascended the hill, and coming 
to Helim's house, demanded some refreshments. Helim was 
very luckily there at that time, and after having set before the 
king the choicest of wines and fruits, finding him wonderfully 
pleased with so seasonable a treat, told him that the best part of 
his entertainment was to come, upon which he opened to him the 
whole history of what had past. The king was at once aston- 
ished and transported at so strange a relation, and seeing his 
brother enter the room with Balsora in his hand, he leaped off 
from the sofa on which he sat, and cried out, ' It is he ! it is my 

Abdallah !' having said this, he fell upon his neck and wept. 

The whole company, for some time, remained silent, and shed- 



5'20 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 167 

ding tears of joy. The king, at length, after having kindly re 
proached Helim for depriving him so long of such a brother, em- 
braced Balsora with the greatest tenderness, and told her, that 
she should now be a queen indeed, for that he would immediately 
make his brother king of all the conquered nations on the other 
side the Tigris. He easily discovered in the eyes of our two 
lovers, that, instead of being transported with the offer, they 
preferred their present retirement, to empire. At their request, 
therefore, he changed his intentions, and made them a present 
of all the open country, as far as they could see from the top 
of mount Khacan. Abdallah continuing to extend his former 
improvements, beautified this whole prospect with groves and 
fountains, gardens and seats of pleasure, till it became the most 
delicious spot of ground within the empire, and is, therefore, 
called the garden of Persia. This caliph, Ibrahim, after a long 
and happy reign, died without children, and was succeeded by 
Abdallah, a son of Abdallah and Balsora. This was that king 
Abdallah, who afterwards fixed the imperial residence upon 
mount Khacan, which continues at this time to be the favourite 
palace of the Persian empire. 

With this amusing paper, Mr. A took his leave of the Guardian : 
vhieh, wanting his support, could not but drop, as it did, soon after. Of 
tfiese fine diurnal essays, which have engaged us so long, it is to be ob- 
served, that, next to the humorous and allegorical, those of an oriental cast 
are the most taking. The subject of them was well adapted to the author's 
dramatic genius, and flowing imagination. 



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